


Vita Nova

by Flatfootmonster



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman, Hannibal (TV), SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Love, M/M, Mash-up, Meddling, Miscommunication, Multi, Post-Book CMBYN, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Post-Season/Series 4 Skam, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-04-06 13:12:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14057691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flatfootmonster/pseuds/Flatfootmonster
Summary: Hannibal and Will have fled to Northern Italy after their escapades in Cuba. Their old identities assumed dead, they have this fresh start at life. But what will they decide to make of it together?Oliver and Elio have started their new lives together, after more than twenty years apart. The past is behind them, but will they be accepted by their own worlds?Even convinces himself that he has made Isak deeply unhappy, but he has no idea what he has done. Impulse causes him to flee, randomly ending up in Milan. Can they fix the divide between them?





	1. Desertion and Dinner Parties

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, that summary was pretentious as fuck. But basically... I wanted a cross over. And the more I talked to [CannibalsSong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/untamedsymphony/pseuds/CannibalsSong) and [LadyDarkness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Darkness/pseuds/Lady_Darkness) about it, the more I convinced myself it was the right thing to do. So... this may not appeal to many 'cos holy shit I'm crossing a lot of shizzle over.  
> 
> 
> Hannibal and Wills story leave off after [Fragments of a Whole](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11085750/chapters/24729171) (although there is the little issue of the Cuba part of that fic that needs writing, bear with me) and Oliver and Elio leave off after [Cor cordium](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13335540/chapters/30527520) (also a WIP)... Even and Isak have just had their holiday in Morroco. So that about sums things up... without any futher ado, let the fuckery commence! Enjoy <3 Becs Jesus fuck that was a lot of hyperlinks.... I need to go lay down...

###  **Sunday 10:15 - Marrakech, Morocco**

The morning was just like any of the others that had passed them by, the cosy hotel room was flooded with light before sleep had been wiped away from eyelash and brain alike. Days blurred into one warm and lazy and fulfilling haze, it had been perfect. The family run cafe just down the road was more than welcoming and served the best coffee Isak had ever tasted, a rich and crisp slap of flavour that would jump start him despite how much they’d drunk the night before. Along with the fresh baked bread and pastries, it had become  _ the  _ breakfast spot for them after only their first day here.

If anyone had asked him yesterday, he would have told them—without a doubt—this had been the best holiday in his eighteen year life. In fact it would be a high bar for any other experience to hurdle in the future, he was sure of that. Everything was new and fresh from the culture to the food, even the bright colours at the markets seemed to be hues and shades he had never seen before. And to complete it all, Even was at his side; step for step, joke for joke and kiss for loving kiss. Every moment had been packed to bursting with memories that Isak  _ knew  _ would last him his lifetime. When he closed his eyes at night he would walk through moments again and again, trying to remember every stitch of detail: from the tone of Even’s voice and arch of his eyebrows to every last colour represented in the spectrum that his eyes had captured. 

How do you keep a memory? Isak wasn’t sure but he wanted to know so he could hoard them up, as fresh as they were in his mind now. And the need now—as he sat at the table alone—was stronger than it had been before. His eyes still searched the scrap of paper beneath his nose in case there was a hidden clue in the messy scrawl that was Even’s handwriting. They should be at the cafe by now, for their last morning breakfast before they would leave for home. They should be together right now.

Yes, if you had asked him yesterday, Isak would have told you he had never felt more alive or more in love than he did here. This wasn’t the first time he found himself regretting his innate ability to sleep so deeply that he could miss someone slip out in the night. Today was not yesterday and Isak couldn't feel more isolated than he did, tolerating the warmth and afterimages that danced in front of his eyes. Every morning they had woken, one kissing the other back into the mattress until someone had asked the inevitable question ‘ _ Hungry?’ _ . Not today. 

_ I'm leaving to make it easier for you. _

The words were captioned coming from a cartoon Even watching a cartoon Isak sleep. There was a another sketch underneath the first, they were both entwined and sleeping peacefully. In another universe. 

Make what easier for him? Isak had no idea what Even was thinking, and that was a feeling he'd been content to leave behind. His things were gone: bag, clothes and passport. At least being lucid enough to leave the note and take his belongings meant Even wasn't having an episode, somewhere on his own in the world. Isak hoped anyway, despite how much more hurt was encumbered by Even’s actions being sanely embraced. 

Isak found himself pacing the tiles in front of the room’s balcony, not sure when he’d abandoned the table. They had spent hours—at all times of the day—out there, talking and being still. Just with each other, eyes searching the limited view only to come to rest on one another. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, completely dumbfounded over what went wrong. Apparently their minds had been in two seperate places. Isak was slowly realising his plan wasn't going to unfold now.

That lump that was forming in his throat was frozen in place. But he couldn't stop and feel, he couldn't cry now. The call had already been made to Even’s mum, she had told him to get his scheduled flight back and she would check with the airport for whether Even had checked in and to what destination he was flying, hopefully it would be home. She had been calm, for Isak’s sake. But there was a hesitation and a tremor present in her words that gave her away. It wouldn't have worked anyway, he was not the same person he had been a year ago. There were responsibilities that belonged to him that he couldn't just fly away from—that he didn't  _ want _ to run away from. 

With that thought Isak refused to give in. Turning from the balcony, he wasted no time in packing his bag and grabbing his belongings, the drawing was safely tucked into his pocket. With a final check around the room he was content that nothing had been left except the two remaining beers in the fridge. There was no time for lingering observations to memorize the room they had shared on their first adventure. They would have to return so he could do that and have that coffee they missed out on. They  _ would  _ return. But first, he had to get to the airport to find out where he would be flying next. 

⚣

###  **Monday 17:32 - Crema, Italy**

Oliver couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face as he watched the lithe form that was Elio emerge from the verdure that separated his property from the neighbours’. He usually moved with an energetic grace but this afternoon there was an extra spring in his step. It was quite obvious to Oliver exactly what he’d been up to. 

Placing his paper on the ancient table—that had stood in the same spot for at least the last 20 years—Oliver leaned back in his chair, waiting for the other man to join him. He had already poured a glass of wine for them both, dinner was ready to be eaten but Oliver wouldn't start without Elio. 

Shades were pushed onto the top of his head as Elio flopped into the chair next to Oliver, a grin reflected back at him. It was a reflex now, he realised, lacing their fingers together whenever they were within arms length. 

“So?”

“So.”

Oliver snorted a short laugh. They never would get tired of their word games. “So, you were successful?” 

“I used a different tactic.” Elio looked pleased with his victory. He’d been trying for weeks to get their relatively new neighbours to come over for dinner. 

“You asked the scary one?” They were two men, the older around the same age as Oliver and the younger perhaps of an age with Elio. Elio had automatically approached his peer, who—Oliver admitted—seemed the slighter and more approachable of the two. 

“I never said he was scary.” Elio said, squinting at the other through the afternoon rays of sun.

“I'm pretty sure those were the exact words you used.” Oliver had to restrain a laugh, Elio was so honest in his reactions it was an endearing innocence that had never weathered. The heart that he wore on his sleeve more than made up for Oliver’s reserved nature, but that was being quickly eroded away by their utopic home. 

“He's… intimidating at first. But  _ he  _ agreed. He seems cultured—speaks Italian.  _ Fluently _ .” 

“He's a native?” Oliver was surprised, he had assumed they were overseas money. 

“Nope. He's from Bucharest; Nigel. The other’s name is Adam and he's the American.” Elio was obviously excited over their prospective friendly neighbours.

“I still think you're making assumptions.” Scoffed Oliver as he picked up his glass to take a sip. The wine was excellent, as was everything locally sourced in his estimation. 

“Why? I haven't seen the woman in over a month. It's just them… pretty cosy in there too.” 

“You're incorrigible.” Oliver's words were fond as he leaned towards the other man, pushing a wine soaked kiss to the other’s mouth. It was always a thrill to be able to do that, uncaring of the outside world—for the most part. When their lips parted, Oliver's grin returned in response to the stuttered breath that left Elio. “Just don't put them on the spot.” 

“I would never.” Elio snorted. But he would, just completely by accident. And then, like a seasoned showman, he would flourish an imaginary cape and distract everyone from whatever faux-pas he had indulged—all would be forgotten. It was quite something to watch. 

“Of course you wouldn’t. Anyway, I thought you hated dinner parties, Elio?” The memories of the young man he had been, complaining about the bores that would descend at any and all meal times—and who he would often have to entertain—were as vivid as if it had been yesterday for Oliver. 

“Eh,” And there was that dismissive noise which signalled either a conscious contradiction or self deprecation was to follow. Oliver was surprised sometimes how well he knew the other man down to these small habits. “They have their appeal. Besides it's good to know your neighbours. They  _ could _ be serial killers.” 

Oliver huffed a laugh before Elio leant in and kissed him back. “Your imagination knows no bounds.” He managed when Elio released him. These late afternoon wine kisses could quickly descend into evening madness, they had a lot of practise in that particular area. 

“And aren’t you glad of that?” The words were delivered with a smirk. Elio studied Oliver’s mouth longingly before a thought registered on his honest features, derailing whatever tangent he’d been intending. “Anything from our guest yet?” 

Oliver sighed, leaning back into his chair his eyes gazed up at the lofty branches overhead that swayed gently in the breeze. That was becoming a tricky situation. “No, nothing. I went up half an hour ago to let him know there’s food to eat, but…” Oliver threw his hands up in vexation before letting them drop to his lap. “I’ll take up more food later. He eats bites, which is better than nothing.” His jaw firmed. He was anxious over the reclusive younger man that was their first paying customer here. 

“You’re worried?” Elio asked gently.

“You’re not?” Oliver glanced over to the other man to see him nod in agreement, but looking at a loss for what they might actually do to help. The guest was paying for the room after all, wouldn’t they be overstepping the mark to intervene in something they had no bearing on? Oliver was well aware of the argument against, but he couldn’t let it drop. “He’s the same age as Vinnie; I  _ want  _ to do something. It doesn’t feel right not to.” 

Elio hummed in consideration, slowly coming around to Oliver’s unspoken notion of action but there was still some resistance within him. “Well, it’s been a day, right?”

“Over a day now.”

“ _ Just _ over a day. Let’s take him some food up again and if he doesn’t come out by lunch tomorrow, I’ll go talk to him. OK?”

“Why you?”

“I won’t get all paternal. If it's something big, he'll appreciate a more friendly approach.” Oliver wanted to argue the logic and deny the accusation that he would come across as too fatherly but Elio was right. All he could do was frown at the pages of his paper, fluttering in the summer breeze. 

“Ok. Deal. But if anything happens before then that is a concern, I will step in.” 

“Sounds fair.” said Elio, squeezing Oliver's hand a little tighter. “I'm sure it will be ok. He's not the first young man to lock himself in that room for days.” he snickered, earning himself a reprimanding look.

“Don't.” Oliver warned defensively, Elio was able to tease of the past but it would always be too close to the surface for Oliver to jest of their separation. Mainly because he was to blame for it all.

“Don't be so soft,” Elio mocked, bringing Oliver's hand to his mouth to press his lips against. “Besides I wasn't totally alone.” Oliver quirked an eyebrow quizzically. “There may have been a peach or two involved.” Elio snorted out a laugh that—after a shake of his head—was joined by Oliver's deeper chuckle.

“Incorrigible.” he repeated, pulling Elio towards him and stealing the waning laughter into his body with another kiss. “We should eat.” 

“Let's eat out here. It might tempt our friend out.” His eyes moved to the table top, to where Oliver's paper was placed next to his phone. Elio frowned.

“Ivan, right?”

“ _ Even _ .” Elio corrected absentmindedly, his mind already on to the next issue. “Any calls?” he asked tentatively, gaze returning to Oliver. He didn't reply, merely shook his head. “They will. You'll see.” Oliver looked away, searching the landscape. He wanted to agree and believe but he was starting to lose hope. 

“Mafalda will chase us around the garden if we put off food any longer. She'll think we’re snubbing her cooking.” said Oliver, standing and pulling the other man out of his chair. Elio let himself be evicted from his seat but kept his eyes on Oliver, narrowing them. He knew his attempts to change the topic were obvious but—after a brief hesitation—Elio didn't push him any further.

Oliver led the way to the open doorway to the villa, not lessening his grip on Elio's hand as though he might get lost in his own house.  “And you know what Even might appreciate?” Oliver said over his shoulder as they entered the spacious and well organised kitchen where their food was laid out on trays, ready to be eaten here or taken outside. 

“What's that?”

Oliver didn't say anything, just nodded to the fruit bowl that centred the kitchen table, filled with fresh produce from the orchard. Including peaches. 

Elio snorted a surprised laugh. “ _ Me, incorrigible _ ?” 

⚣

 

“ _ Hannibal _ —” Will let his hands drop to his sides, completely at a loss of what to say. He thought they’d been over this; they were to lay low and keep to themselves as much as possible. Raking fingers through his hair he began to pace again in front of the open french doors that let out on to their spacious grounds. He had to admit—to himself at least—that this was heavenly seclusion. For the most part. 

“He would have kept coming over to ask. Apparently he’s persistent. Would you rather we had  _ them  _ for dinner?” The words were delivered with that self-amused smile that never failed to push Will further towards complete exasperation with the man. 

“Yes,  _ that  _ would garner less attention, Hannibal. A whole family goes missing in a reclusive area of Northern Italy and—coincidentally—the new foreign neighbours open up a delicatessen.” They had been here for two months now and it was everything they needed. After the chaos of Cuba, here they had peace and each other.

“Will,” Hannibal began with that smile that had only grown warmer with the days they spent here. He wasn't sure if he was more unnerved by that or the old predatory glare Will had grown accustomed to. Combined with the well manicured beard and long hair that would fall around his face in a casually precise manner, Will had to admit Hannibal was almost a different man entirely from the Baltimore psychiatrist he had met. “It will only become more suspicious if we shun interaction. That's how you entertain curiosity.” 

Will sighed, placing his hands on his hips. Hannibal was right but it wasn't just that. “You're just looking for an excuse to flex your social tail feathers.” 

“It's a positive by-product of the correct course of action.” Not even an attempt at denial. Will shook his head. “Besides, Elio seems to be pleasant company at least.” The expression on Hannibal’s face was innocent enough but Will couldn't help but glare at the other man. 

“I bet.” He scoffed. It hadn't been hard for Will to hear the rapport between the two men when he’d returned from fishing, even if it was in a language he didn't speak. He had assumed that Elio had decided to change his technique and had waited for Will to leave the villa with his rod and kit before calling round. Well, Elio had waited a whole half day to make his appearance in Will's absence but for some bizarre reason, logic wasn't playing into his reasoning. By the miniscule curve of Hannibal’s lips, he knew that too.

“He reminds me of a more carefree version of yourself.” 

And there it was, the inevitable dig at the chink in Will's armour. “Well I like him enough.” He wouldn't play into Hannibal’s games, they were too old for that. “And I'm sure I like him better alive so none of  _ those _ ideas.” 

“We agree there.” 

“Good.” 

“Excellent.” 

Will sighed again. This was going to be nothing short of arduous. “So when is it?” 

“When is what?” Hannibal cocked his head to one side, enjoying the strain it was taking for Will to be cordial and suppress his displeasure. He was prodding and Will knew it but that didn't stop him from rolling his eyes in exasperation. 

“The dinner party, Hannibal.” Will's voice was as flat as the unimpressed stare he levelled at the other man. 

“If you're going to be this  _ unagreeable _ , I can always make excuses for your absence. I could say—for example—that you have a disorder that impacts your social skills, Asperger’s perhaps.” It was meant to tease but Will found himself entertaining the excuse.  _ No _ . No, he would go and then perhaps Hannibal would regret going against their agreement.

“And miss out on the fun of making you a back story? I couldn't pass that up.” he replied, with a sardonic grin. But it only made Hannibal's smile deepen. 

“What would you make me?” 

“I don't know... maybe an ex-crime lord on the run after he let his empire go up in flames when his wife cheated on him. Sounds plausible.” 

Hannibal’s eyebrows rose a fraction; amused. “Well, I've been known to give up everything for the one I love. It's not implausible.” Heat crept into Will's face at his words. “We’ll go and enjoy the company, we could both do with it. And if anything should happen, we have several directions we can flee. Chiyoh is only a phone call away” 

With another wistful look out on to the sprawling garden and orchard, Will nodded. “Ok.” 

“It's tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow.” Will repeated, lost in the trees that were moved gracefully by the stirring breeze. “What names did you use?” 

“Adam and Nigel.” 

“Well at least they are forgettable. Surname?” 

“Graham. We married in Vegas.” A surprised burst of laughter exploded from Will's chest. 

“I'm not sure what is more unbelievable. You taking my surname or a wedding in Vegas.  _ Vegas _ ? Really?” Hannibal nodded, pleased as always to see Will laugh and be the reason behind it.

“It's seems like the kind of place where a criminal and someone who doesn't like extravagant social events would elope. And you're right about the name but Lecter isn't very  _ low-key. _ ”

Will considered Hannibal after his laughter had died down. Maybe they did need to relax a little and enjoy some company. It couldn't be all that bad, could it? The stubborn streak in Will wasn't about to give in easily, however. “I'll come, on my  _ best  _ behaviour,” it really wasn't a very high bar to hurdle, “ _ if _ you let me pick out your clothes.” 

Hannibal tilted his head to one side, levelling a dangerously calm look at the younger man. “Not  _ that  _ shirt.” 

Will grinned. 

⚣

###  **Tuesday 00:46**

The last sound Even had heard had been at least an hour ago. He was sat up in bed, staring at the tray of food that the taller man had brought up.  _ Oliver _ . He liked them both, and this place was soothing, it didn't expunge all his worries but his mind was becoming calmer. With that calm came doubt,  _ severe  _ doubt. 

He'd been so sure that leaving had been the right thing to do. Even couldn't bear to watch more pain in Isak. The small measure of it that had grown in their last week together had been enough. There could be nothing else out there that would cause that except Even, he knew he'd hurt Isak eventually despite not being entirely sure how, he didn't want to make it worse.

It was past midnight he estimated and there was less left on this plate than the last meal he'd been brought. He should be happy that his appetite was returning but it felt like nothing but a reward he didn't deserve. As if to spite himself, his stomach rumbled. The cheese was really good, but it would be better with cardamom he thought with a grin. That small fragment of joy that the memory gave him faded quickly. He was alone. 

Standing from the bed, Even made his way through the open doors to the balcony. It was a much larger space than the small balcony he'd shared with Isak in Morocco. Flattening his back to the wall, he slid down until he was sat on the floor, elbows rested on his knees and chin tipped up to stare at the night sky. He knew he couldn't hide forever, tomorrow he should leave the room at least. Talk. Maybe that would help him decipher the truth in his scathing thoughts.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Even ran back over the last week—yet again—to see if there was anything new he could garner from his memories. The point that all his doubt began was when they spent an afternoon at a market: bright colours, loud noises, air heavy with aromas. They'd been enjoying themselves, pointing out things they didn't recognise and making up backstories for the characters they saw. And then they had become separated, Even had been haggling for a wooden carved camel adorned with small brass and fabric details. It was a corny souvenir but he thought his mum would appreciate it. All of a sudden, Isak wasn't by his side. 

Panic had gripped him instantly, despite the calm persona he presented. The souvenir was forgotten and he'd scanned the market frantically, glad for his height as he stood head and shoulders above most. He hadn't dared move from his spot in case Isak had just gone back for something without telling him. But the minutes had passed and Even had been on the verge of making his way back to the hotel, constantly being jostled by the crowd was beginning to make him anxious. As he took a step away from the stall, hands grabbed his shoulders. 

“There you are.” Isak proclaimed. Even had jumped out of his skin before turning to be greeted with an infectious grin. 

Even had felt frustrated at the conservative society they were guests within and not for the first time. He'd wanted to grab Isak and hold him, kiss him, make sure he could feel that every facet of the man he loved was intact and unharmed. Any over zealous display of affection was generally frowned on, gay or straight. And so he'd grabbed Isak’s hand, making a beeline for their hotel so he could do just that. 

Things had been fine between them—normal. That was until there would be a lull in the conversation, instead of the comfortable silence they usually enjoyed. Isak’s eyes would dart from point to point and Even could practically feel the words that were cloying in his throat, unable to say what was eating him up. But this wasn't unusual, Isak would get burrs under his skin from time to time and all it would take was for Even to play as normal as possible until the pressure would build and Isak would inevitably spill, all the while thinking he had been very cunning in hiding his feelings. Even could read him easily, and that would bring him a sense of relief on any other occasion. 

But as the days passed, Isak didn't open up. The silences grew harder to act through. The last straw was the night before they were due to leave, Even had misplaced his keys and wanted to pick them up something to eat from the cafe. Without asking, he'd grabbed Isak’s jacket and — before he'd even reached into the pocket — Isak had been on him, ripping the coat from Even before grumbling with sincere irritation about Even being more careful with his things and that maybe he could ask before going through Isak’s things. 

That was definitely new. There had never been any sense of individual possessions before that, because they always gave as much as they received. Isak had apologised, he'd said he was just tired and that he didn't want to go home and leave this adventure behind. Even had said it was fine, held him close and stroked the guilt away as he ran his fingers through the Isak's hair until he was fast asleep and sprawled across Even’s chest. 

It was in the dark and quiet that the thoughts turned to poison, he'd seen people get exasperated with him before, lose patience with him when he couldn't focus. He'd dealt with the eye rolls and the harassed sighs, then he could just deal with the guilt and hope he made it better when it wasn't a bad day. The thought of Isak seeing him like that though… it crippled him. Fear pulsed through with every beat of his heart, every moment that past the need to run snowballed out of control. He couldn't cope with the idea that inevitably Isak would grow tired of his shit, even when he couldn't fathom what he'd done. Desperation took over, repeating their minute by minute mantra didn't even help. All it did was make him think of was the minutes he would slowly see love die in Isak’s eyes. 

And it was with that thought, that fear, that made him move. Easing himself from under Isak’s comforting weight and pack, leaving like a coward in the night. He felt ashamed, worthless doing that. At the time it had felt the easiest hurt to endure for them both. 

But now he wasn't so sure. Right or wrong, he'd successfully fucked things up. There was no going back just regret. With that sombre thought, he gave up on watching the stars. Without Isak with him, it hurt to stare at the universe and imagine those parallel universes they would talk about. Somewhere Even had never left Isak, but right here and now they were both alone. 

Cradling his head in his hands, Even let the tide of grief wash over him. But this wasn't how it was supposed to be.

⚣

 


	2. Interaction and Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even sighed heavily. “Have you ever left someone? And not know if you did the right thing?” Blue eyes turned to frown at him when Elio snorted in response.  
> “I was the one left behind.”  
> “Shit. I'm sorry.” His expression turned abashed before he became thoughtful again. “But you ended up happy. You and … erm… Oliver?”  
> “Oliver.” Elio agreed with a nod. “Sublimely happy. And he was the one that did the leaving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is chapter two of this calamitous cluster-fuck! 
> 
> Thank you [Lady Darkness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Darkness/pseuds/Lady_Darkness) for always being my second pair of eyes!
> 
> Well. Enjoy!
> 
> Love, Becs

###  **Tuesday 11:02 - Crema, Perlman Villa**

Elio’s lips curved into a smile as he heard footsteps approach slowly at his back. He was very much an expert in each pair of feet that resided at his home and the particular gait of each inhabitant—whether they were jogging or sneaking. The soft footfalls he could hear were unfamiliar, leading Elio to believe that their guest had decided to venture out of his room. It was a good thing too, he had agreed with Oliver that midday would be the point at which they would encroach on the young man’s space. Oliver was on the verge of pulling his hair out by the time breakfast was finished and there was still no sight of Even, but Elio had persisted that they wait a little longer. By his estimates he had around an hour before Oliver would have burst into the room to take Even’s vitals.

Deciding the best course of action was to allow his guest to approach at their own comfortable pace, Elio continued to strum through a series of chords he was building into a melody. A tune had been trapped in his head and—like a bird caught in the attic—the notes bounced around in his skull until he strung them together.

Pausing, he rested an elbow on the waist of the instrument before leaning to one side to scrawl notes on to the notebook that sat next to him on the side of the pool. 

“Halla— _ hi _ .” the unsure voice came from behind him. Elio twisted around looking up at the worry-gaunt young man that stood, hands in his pocket and shifting from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable. That wasn't a feeling Elio was happy to see any of his guests wearing. Peering up, internally cursing everyone for being being so darn tall, Elio cleared his throat.

_ “ _ Good morning.” Elio replied with a grin. “It's good to see you up.” It may not have been the right starting point he realised as guilt visibly washed over the young man. 

“Yeah, sorry I've been….  _ hiding _ .” 

Shaking his head, Elio patted the space next to him in invitation. After a moment's consideration, Even took up the offer, kicking off his sandals before slumping down and slinging his feet in the water. 

“Don't be sorry, we all need our time—from time to time.” 

Even nodded thoughtfully. “I heard you playing. Sounds nice.” 

“It's nothing. Just a tune that's been stuck in here.” Elio tapped the side of his head with the end of the pencil, still held in his fingers. “I hope I didn't wake you up.”

“No, I've not been sleeping much.” Even paused, staring at his toes in the crystalline water. Elio was going to press the matter of sleeplessness when Even opened his mouth to continue. “You write music?” Elio nodded affirmation. “That's cool. I play too, I used to make up riffs but I always get distracted before I can make anything of it.” 

“You play?” He couldn't hide the delight in his voice. There was nothing quite like finding a fellow musician to bounce ideas around with. 

“Well, yeah. But not like you.” 

“Nothing but years of practice. You wanna go?” Elio offered, pulling the guitar upright by the neck. Even looked at what was being offered to him—weighing and unsure—before nodding.

“Ok, but it’s been a while so no teasing.” The younger man replied with a grin. Elio grinned right back, it was the first time he had seen Even be anything but solemn, it wasn't an expression that suited him. Happiness though seemed to be Even’s natural persona, he could see that now. 

Once his hands were free, Elio leant back on his palms, drinking in the sun and watching patiently whilst Even made himself familiar with the guitar. 

“Mahogany?” he shot over his shoulder. Elio hummed a  _ yes. _ “Nice.” The younger man was absorbed now, fingers skating up and down the neck as he tested his chord reflex before he began to strum slowly.

It was in contrast to what Elio had been playing; a tune inspired by cicadas that had swarmed and danced in the sunrise. They had been playful and so his tune had been light and swift, high notes that plunged quickly to a lower, mellow progression. Even’s fingers sought out the minor chords, stringing together a slow tune. It was partly due to lack of practise, Elio thought, but he could also see the young man enjoying the feeling of those sombre sounds vibrating through him at a pace that was drawn out. 

“You're good, Even.” said Elio, as the tune began to taper to a fine and precise song plucked high on the board. He meant it too, there was a natural ability in Even that Elio could recognise. 

The younger man huffed a laugh. “I don't know.” 

“I do. You do anything musically?” 

“No.” He shrugged, fingers falling still as he stared straight ahead. Maybe playing had been a bad idea. Or perhaps Elio could use this moment to get to something deeper. 

“That was really sorrowful and beautiful. You know, they say—if you're natural—you play from your soul.” Even slumped over the guitar at the words.

“They would be right, then.” He murmured in reply. 

“Oh?” Elio tried to make his tone as innocent as he could. Asking outright usually didn't get the desired response. At least not from what he remembered at that age. “Well I'm a pretty good listener.” He added casually. 

Even sighed heavily. “Have you ever left someone? And not know if you did the right thing?” Blue eyes turned to frown at him when Elio snorted in response. 

“I was the one left behind.” 

“Shit. I'm sorry.” His expression turned abashed before he became thoughtful again. “But you ended up happy. You and … erm… Oliver?” 

“Oliver.” Elio agreed with a nod. “Sublimely happy. And he was the one that did the leaving.”

Even was caught off guard before recovering to plow forward. “But not for long, right? He came back. Did he just… go through a phase?” 

“If you can call twenty years a phase.” Elio couldn't help but laugh as Even’s mouth fell open. 

“ _ Twenty years _ ?” 

“Uh-uh.”

“You're fucking with me.” 

“Nope.”

“But you two are so… you know,  _ perfect _ .” 

“Nothing is perfect. Some things are just meant to be.” Even fell silent for a long moment, considering the questions that came to mind with this revelation. Elio could guess the next question and he wasn't wrong. 

“Why did he leave?”

“Obligations in a parallel life.” it was vague but Even seemed to understand. “And so he has sons around your age now for it.” Elio smiled. A family that could hopefully come together, new life to be breathed into this place. That was—of course—if they decided to call Oliver and quit his suffering. “It was harder back then, to think what we had could be possible or acceptable to maintain. You kids have it  _ easy.  _ But it never went away, everything changed but what we shared and so,” Elio nodded towards the house, “here we are.”

“And you forgave him?” 

“What's to forgive? Why waste time on that? You don't get time back and twenty years is a lot in that currency. Why add interest? Too many years were spent alone to punish him for actions I understand.” Elio smiled as Even processed his words, eyes dropping to the water again. He decided the kid was a deep thinker, now was perhaps the time for a leading question. 

“So, why did you leave?” 

“I left for him.” The answer was instant, the situation had obviously been playing in Even’s mind and his defence was already assembled. 

“Did he ask you to go?” 

“Well, no. But it's best for him.” 

It was Elio's turn to sigh. Good intentions pave the way to many unhappy scenarios. “What's his name?” 

“Isak.” he whispered, as though speaking his name louder would have been more painful. Elio could tell him it would hurt even if he thought the name, but he thought better of that advise. 

“Did you talk to Isak about the problem?” 

“Well no, but I didn't need to. I could see I was hurting him.” 

The frown turned accusing when Elio began to chuckle. Resting a hand on the younger man's shoulder, Elio squeezed. “You can't assume someone's feelings. You say hurt, but it could have been fear or nerves. Did you do anything to hurt him?” 

“No. But it's complicated.” 

Elio hummed. He wouldn't push for details if they were not offered, besides which relationship wasn't complicated in its own unique way? But he could see the seeds of doubt sprouting in Even’s mind, reflecting over what he'd done and what perhaps he could do. “I'm sure it is. So, you just left home? Norway?” 

Even didn't answer but the way he winced at the question let Elio know it hurt. Then he recalled, they picked him up already looking travel worn, clothes already wrinkled and bags battered. “You didn't leave Isak abroad did you?” the silence was enough of an answer. “Is he alone?” Even just nodded, shame visibly falling on him. “Jesus, Even. That…  _ was  _ a bad move.” The thought of Oliver leaving on that train and Elio being stranded any further than he already had been was a nightmare. He wasn't sure he'd know what to do. But there was no point in laying the guilt on, it was done and with good intentions. He just had to figure out how to rectify this situation. Beside, it was a different era with mobiles and internet. Was anyone truly stranded anymore? 

The younger man placed the guitar gently to one side with specific care, before he crumpled forward burying his head in his hands. 

“I fucked up.” 

“Text him. Message him. Facebook him or whatever you kids do.” 

“I can't. He'll hate me.” 

“Oh, no he won't. He'll probably want to tear you limb from limb but only after making sure you're in one piece to begin with. And he'll put you back together after.”

“He shouldn't have to put me back together. It's not fair for him.” There was something deeper in the words, a different current entirely; but Elio let his curiosity be. There was no point at plucking at the already existing worries Even had. 

“Well,” Elio began in that tone his father used to proceed with when trying to focus his son on the next course of action in the most diplomatic way as possible. “I always find things are always much clearer once I've had something to eat. You need to eat, Even. You can't punish yourself by wasting away, we'll figure it out. Ok?” 

He didn't look convinced but, after some consideration and an in-depth study of a thread he was plucking from his shorts, Even nodded. “Ok.” 

Elio shifted to stand but paused when his guest turned to him again. “A parallel life isn't a parallel universe.” half question and half statement, Elio considered the differences. 

“No. Parallel lives can coexist in the same plane, usually without physically touching. But they are there, you know it and it's tangible. A parallel universe is something much more hypothetical. A dream. You could forsake this universe to dwell on those others that  _ might _ be but if there's anything that I’ve learnt it's that everywhere is here and every when is now—to quote Dante.” 

“Life is now.” Even murmured. 

Elio nodded. “Succinct and accurate. You've got it.” He replied with a grin, something seemed to assure the young man. Hopefully he had enough to consider to take action and soon. And if not, well Elio had no qualms in meddling. “I'll get you some food.” 

⚣

###  **12:05**

Oliver had only just settled at the high kitchen table, he’d spent the morning rushing from shop to shop to get the ingredients he would need for dinner that evening. Some of the marinades needed to sit for a good few hours, so he would need to get started soon. Oliver found he was surprisingly excited at the prospect of them both entertaining for the first time, as a couple— _ a family _ . Espresso and laptop were set out before him, when Elio bounced into the room.

“We've had a breakthrough.” He exclaimed excitedly. 

“I noticed.” Oliver replied, raising his eyebrows at his partner as he took a sip of his coffee. The taste of which was almost as powerful as Elio's enthusiasm. As much as he’d been the anchoring force in their approach towards Even, Elio was just as invested in ironing flat whatever it was the young man was going through. “And he's eating?” 

“Yes.” Elio perched himself on the table top, beaming down in triumph at Oliver. 

“Has he contacted his parents?” Elio's grin dropped to a flat stare. 

“One crisis at a time daddy-o.” 

Oliver levelled an equally flat and disapproving look right back. “Don't call me that, you know I hate it. And his parents should know he's ok. They'll be worried.”

“That's step two. Or three. There are more crucial things at stake.” 

“What  _ things?”  _

“You know what things.” Oliver didn't bother trying to stop rolling his eyes whilst Elio snickered. “Love, of course. What else?” 

“Love?” Elio hummed in agreement. Oliver watched him become distracted by his own thoughts for a moment waiting for him to elaborate. “As much as I wanted to, I didn't eavesdrop on you both. You'll have to fill in the gaps, smartass.” 

“Well,” he began, “he deserted the love of his life—in Morocco, in the middle of the night—because Even was convinced he'd hurt him. Except he doesn't know what he did because he didn't talk to him. His name is Isak.”

Oliver began to make a slow  _ ah  _ of discovery as the details were unfolded. Of course it had to be love that would put someone in a state like this, fleeing in desperation in the middle of the night. “And has he spoken to Isak since?” 

Elio shook his head and Oliver tutted his disapproval, acknowledging fully how hypocritical it would be for him to take any high ground here. 

“I think there's something more to it, but I'm not going to press. I  _ sense _ that Even doesn't want to feel like a burden.” 

“Who does?” 

“True. But there's something else, I just can't put my finger on it. Are you logged on?” 

“I am.” But the words were more a question, waiting for Elio to divulge him with whatever plan he had in mind. 

“Good, let's Google them; something's gotta come up.” Oliver opened his browser and, after several reworded searches, Elio let out a pleased laugh. 

“They have an Instagram,” pointing to the link on the screen, “that one.” Oliver clicked on the link, taking them to a feed of domestic pictures. 

“This is probably the first time I've been on Instagram.”

“No kidding.”

“Is it like Facebook?”  

“Kinda, but this looks like a joint account. We want Isak  _ specifically.”  _ Elio replied, chewing his lip and eyes scanning the screen. “ _ There _ ! That's his surname. Facebook search him.” 

“Jesus, Elio, when did you get so  _ down with the kids?”  _

_ “ _ I've always been the cool one.” Elio grinned at a scowling Oliver.

“What does that make me?” 

“The parental one, we've been over this already.”

Oliver snorted his disapproval. “Brat.” he murmured, whilst copying and pasting Isak’s name into a new tab. “Ok, here he is.” 

“So message him.” 

“And say?” 

“We have your boyfriend, come collect him?” 

“It has to be a little more diplomatic than that.” 

“ _ Diplomatic.”  _ Elio repeated, with a small measure of disbelief. 

“Yes,” Oliver ignored the jibe, opening a new message to Isak and pausing for a moment before typing out a message, orating at the same time. “ _ Isak, you don't know me so I apologise for messaging you out of the blue but it's important. We have Even staying with us, who we believe is your _ -” Oliver stopped to look up at Elio questioningly, “Boyfriend or partner?” 

“Either way, I don't think it'll matter. He'll just be glad to know he's safe.” 

“Right. I just wanted to be politically correct.” He arched an eyebrow at a snickering Elio before turning his attention back to the message. “- _ Who we believe is your boyfriend. He's been very down since he arrived on Sunday and we've just learned of you and what happened. Please message back, maybe we can sort this out. I hope you are safe _ -” 

“ _ I hope you're safe?”  _

“Too much?” 

“No. No, it's… sweet.” 

“Sweet?” Oliver's voice was scandalized. “The poor kid’s been left in Morocco on his own, I'm not trying to be sweet. I  _ do  _ hope he's safe.” 

“Ok! Ok, it's perfect.” 

“ _ I hope you're safe, regards Oliver.”  _

“And Elio.” 

“It's not from your account.”

Elio huffed. “I still want some credit.” 

“I'm sure I can show  _ my  _ appreciation if you managed to break through the dark cloud that's been hanging over the house. That is if my appreciation is what you want?” Oliver smirked up at the younger man, emphasising the implications in his words. 

“Well if that’s the case,” Elio matched the smirk, sliding from the table top into Oliver's lap in that feline way that was so natural to him. “Send it.” 

⚣

###  **12:05 - Milan, Linate Airport**

“Dad-” Isak rolled his eyes as he endured another barrage of verbal parental anxiety as his ass slowly turned numb from the hard airport lounge seats. “ _ Dad!  _ It's fine, I'm fine. It's a B&B in  _ Milan.  _ You know Italy. It's not like I'm stuck in… in a shit hole with no internet. It's chill.” 

His parents hadn't wanted for him to stay away any longer and he understood that; it was his first time abroad alone after all. But he couldn't go back, the days where Even would do something like leave in the night were dark and confusing to say the least. Isak needed to find him and help him, there was no other choice. But this was day three of hanging out in an airport, waiting on some info about where Even was, and it seemed fruitless. He felt powerless but he couldn't just leave, despite being booked onto a flight later that evening. He’d promised he would try for two days to look for him, after that he'd return. Isak still wasn't sure that he'd stick to his word but how could he find Even? He could be anywhere. 

But what would he do when he got home? He felt hopelessly adrift now but at least he was in a place he didn't know. He managed to hide his emotions in that fact, that he was somewhere new and disorientating, rather than give in to the desperate loneliness he felt without Even. Isak had never felt so unmade, fractured and incomplete. If he was at home now, in their flat and in their bed feeling like this… no. Isak couldn't even cope with the mere thought of that. Going home without Even was unconscionable but he was running out of options. 

Authorities here and at home had been useless. Young men go travelling alone all the time, they said, he'll turn up when he runs out of money, they said, check the hospital if you think he may be having an episode, they said. They said a lot of shit that helped no one. Isak had been checking hospitals but nothing had come up. Bipolar disorder aside, Even was capable and independent, if not absurdly chaotic at times. This seemed to follow Even’s trait of chaos. Isak was sure he would be ok, but he needed to  _ know _ that he was. He needed to know why he’d just left him like that, but his pain was hidden by his concern. 

The beep of his battery running low pulled him from his thoughts and he focussed on his father’s voice. Something about whether he needed anymore money, Isak thought. His father obviously didn’t have much faith that he would return later on that day either. 

“It’s fine dad, I’ll let you know if I need any money. Besides, I’m coming home later.” There was just a non committal hum on the other end of the line. Isak  _ was  _ grateful, his dad had managed to keep his mum from panicking too much and they had been more accepting of his solo mission than he’d initially expected.  A few more minutes of rhetoric and answerable questions passed before the battery complained again. “Yes, I’ve already spoken to his parents this morning. They think if he’d needed help we would have seen signs of him already. At the hospital or police.” 

Isak sighed again at the words that were repeated to him, he knew they would come again:  _ Perhaps he just needs some time, son. _ “That’s not good enough, dad.” He wanted to say more but that damn lump was in his throat again. It  _ wasn’t  _ good enough, when had he gone for three days without seeing Even? He needed to make sure he was ok, he needed to  _ see  _ that he was ok and then tell Even he was an asshole for leaving him. Which was true. And then Isak would tell him how much he needed him and that he loved him and ask him why he left. Was there anything he could do to fix this? Was it  _ him _ ? 

Clearing his throat, Isak tried to focus on what he needed to do next. There was a phone charging unit somewhere around here; he’d broken his charger last night and he needed his phone working. Then food, the last time he’d eaten was yesterday evening and Isak couldn’t even remember what it was he’d had. It was like moving on autopilot, which was a shame because Milan was exciting. He wanted to enjoy this place with Even. They could be themselves in public here: hug and kiss and love on each other. 

“Ok, I better go. My phone is about to die.” Pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut, he listened to his father's caring parting words that were something he now heard at least three times a day. Strangely, Isak wasn't tired of them. “I love you too, and mum. Tell her I'm ok. And not to worry. I'll see you later.” 

Letting out a heavy breath, Isak hung up. He stared at the screen for a long moment, not seeing anything at all. How was he going to fix this if this was about him or something he had done? Was there any point in trying to look for Even if he wanted to be on his own? Maybe the best thing he could do was catch his flight back. 

The light blinking on his phone disturbed his sombre musings. Swiping down his notifications, Isak saw a message from someone he didn't know. But, as he clicked on the message, the screen turned black. 

“Great.” he scowled at the phone, now completely dead. He needed to charge it. At least that was an aim—that and food; he had  _ some  _ plan. Standing, Isak made his way to where he'd seen the charging unit. He'd eat and maybe read and then he'd decide whether he should stay or go. 

⚣

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* Hannigram is coming... this was just the best place for a chapter break <3


	3. Dining and Delays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So what's the deal with him?” Will asked jarringly, gesturing at the young man currently tuning his instrument and breaking the rather apparent bonding that was occurring in front of his eyes.  
> “Our first guest: Even-”  
> “Are you already gossiping?” It was a surly American accented voice that came from the open doors before a tall and very American looking man joined their group. He dropped into the chair next to Elio, their fingers tangling together somewhat absentmindedly. Will sighed a little of his relief out. So they were definitely an item.  
> “I was just filling them in on what we did and the B&B came up. Adam was just asking what's up with Even.” Elio shot a furtive look over his shoulder to where soft chords were coming, probably making sure they wouldn't be overheard in their gossiping.  
> “Ah,” Oliver exclaimed, “our love quest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm back with this. Yes, it's still happening. You can't stop me...
> 
> Enjoy!  
> Becs <3

###  **Tuesday 18:46 - Crema, Perlman Villa**

“I still can't believe you made me wear this, Will.” 

“ _ Shhh _ !” Will interrupted, but he couldn't help but grin at a disgruntled Hannibal, wearing the most hideous shirt: sky blue and covered in dogs. It was so terrible it was good, he still wasn't sure where exactly Chiyoh had found it but he was eternally grateful, if just for this evening where Hannibal looked completely ridiculous. Well he should look terrible, but of course somehow he carried it off. “My name is Adam, remember?” 

The glower that was returned to Will spoke of an interesting night to come. Perhaps he had pushed it a little too far. But before he could open his mouth to apologise, Elio emerged from the house with a tray holding a carafe of wine and glasses. Water and fresh juice was already laid out. 

“We were just admiring your house. It's wonderfully rustic.” Hannibal put to Elio smoothly. 

Elio looked back at the villa to his back, as if he needed to be reminded what it looked like. Turning back with a laugh, he shook his head. “ _ Rustic.  _ It needs a lot of work. It was neglected for many years, we are starting renovations though.” 

“No, it's delightful. A peaceful snapshot of time, surrounded by bountiful pasture. Don't change it too much.” Will eyed Hannibal: casually sat and being  _ harmlessly  _ charming. It  _ was  _ harmless. 

“Thanks.” Elio beamed at Hannibal as he set the tray down. “We'll scrap the idea of a helipad then.” 

“What do you both do, if you don't mind me asking?” Will put in, feeling a sudden need to say something. Anything, in fact, even if it was abrupt.

“Not at all. Oliver compiles research and assists on excavations, near and sometimes far. I do a bit of that and compose and transcribe music and literature. Jack of all trades, master of none.” he huffed a laugh and Will barely restrained the grimace at the man's self-deprecation. That was Will's best quality. “We just decided to let out some of the spare rooms too, like a B&B, hence-” And he finished off nodding in the direction of the tall youth sat under a tree with a guitar. With every word that had passed, Will had tensed. This was a dream to Hannibal, sophisticated and refined. And here Will was making him wear a dog print shirt. 

“What instruments do you play?” And Will knew that question would come from Hannibal. 

“Guitar, piano, harpsichord. Well they are the ones I can play with some skill anyway.” Elio replied, filling their glasses. 

Hannibal picked his drink up with a nod of thanks. “That's quite some skill. I play piano and harpsichord myself. Perhaps we could play a duet later?” 

It was for the good that no one was sparing Will a blind bit of notice at this point because he rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. 

“Of course!” Elio replied. “I haven't played duo in a while, I'll be rusty.” 

“Nonsense,” Hannibal assured, “I'm sure you’ll be a delight.” 

“So what's the deal with him?” Will asked jarringly, gesturing at the young man currently tuning his instrument and breaking the rather apparent bonding that was occurring in front of his eyes.

“Our first guest: Even-”

“Are you already gossiping?” It was a surly American accented voice that came from the open doors before a tall and very American looking man joined their group. He dropped into the chair next to Elio, their fingers tangling together somewhat absentmindedly. Will sighed a little of his relief out. So they were definitely an item.

“I was just filling them in on what we did and the B&B came up. Adam was just asking what's up with Even.” Elio shot a furtive look over his shoulder to where soft chords were coming, probably making sure they wouldn't be overheard in their  _ gossiping.  _

“Ah,” Oliver exclaimed, “our love quest.”

“Love quest?” Hannibal asked, leaning forward. Oliver held out a packet of cigarettes in offer to Will. He shook his head and almost choked when Hannibal reached for one himself. 

“I don't smoke,” Will began before frowning at Hannibal, “and neither do you, H-” he coughed, covering up his slip, “ _ Nigel.” _

_ “ _ When in Rome.”

“We're in  _ Crema _ .”

“That's close enough for me.” Hannibal smirked, lighting his cigarette and taking a drag as if he smoked everyday. Oh, this was payback. Will could just imagine his explanation:  _ I was getting into a character that would suit the shirt. “ _ You were saying about this love quest?” Hannibal continued, turning to their hosts who didn't seem to find anything amiss. They seemed to be enjoying the banter between their dinner guests. 

“He's fled his partner, for fear of some great hurt he doesn't even know that he committed-” Oliver paused for breath and Elio jumped in.

“But we've figured out who his partner is. So we're going to do some meddling. For the greater good.” 

“So you're participating. And I suppose our young friend is none the wiser?” Hannibal asked, amusement in his tone.

Elio shot a guilty look at Oliver who just shrugged. “Well, no. I did try and persuade him to but he's so convinced that he's wronged him, either by being right initially or by subsequently leaving. Even just needs a little help.” He nodded at his own sentiment, content with what he'd done. “Too many people lose time because no one steps in.” There was a meaningful glance shared between Elio and Oliver, their grip on each other tightened. Now,  _ there's  _ a story Will decided. 

“That's certainly true.” Will replied, before turning to the warm eyes that he knew were on him. “And sometimes  _ because _ people get involved.” they shared their own private and wordless exchange, more intimate than anyone else's embrace. 

“If people didn't get involved, Adam, we wouldn't be here today.” Chiyoh. She'd set indifference aside and saved them both. Hannibal broke their silent discussion, turning back to Elio. “Well I think it's a good thing. Any progress?” 

“Not yet,” Oliver answered, “But we only sent a message this afternoon.” 

“Have you checked?” Elio asked eagerly. 

“I did, before leaving Mafalda to dinner. She wouldn't let me touch a thing.” Oliver frowned at that. “I was looking forward to cooking but there's no matching her rolling pin.” Elio snickered. “I'll check when we go in for dinner.” Oliver received a nod in agreement before both sets of eyes were back on Will and Hannibal.

“So,” Elio began, “What do you two do? What brings you to this part of the world?” 

Will had been rehearsing just this. Placing his wine glass back on the table, he cleared his throat. “I was training for law enforcement in New York. But I was shot before I got very far, ended up teaching forensics. Before I met Nigel, now I guess we are in retirement. And he-” 

“I,” Hannibal cut in, with a sharp sidelong glance at Will, “owned clubs and bars, many not operating legally—in Bucharest. Before I met Adam, that is. He straightened me out.” 

Oliver was more the blank canvas, but Elio's jaw dropped open before disbelieving laughter filled the shocked silence. “That sounds more like a movie. How did you even meet.” 

“We had the same psychiatrist.” Will chipped in, earning a small smile from Hannibal.

“Now  _ that's  _ an exciting  _ how-did-you-meet _ story.” Oliver chortled. 

“You don't even know the half of it.” Will muttered before sipping more wine. It was taken as a joke and both hosts laughed, delighted at the intriguing neighbours they'd managed to acquire. 

“Italy is one if my favorite countries,” Hannibal continued, “my family had a lot of money invested in properties, all legal of course — I'm the only black sheep —,” he put in with a mocked sternness and the chuckles continued, much to Will's shock, “and the villa happens to be one. After everything, it’s the idyllic place for peace and love.” Only Hannibal Lecter could spin a story about being a criminal, without mentioning if he'd actually paid for his crimes, and be found charming by his audience. Will didn't think there was any learning the technique, socially he would always be lacking. At least they balanced each other out.

“Yes. It's the perfect place for that.” Elio agreed. “Lets just hope we can find it for Even, too. I invited him to dinner, but I think he'll keep to himself.” 

Will studied Elio for a moment; he dressed casually in a polo shirt and shorts with sandals to polish off the relaxed look. But all that did nothing to detract from his beauty, it was like looking at a sculpture but with healthy olive skin instead of lifeless pale. He scrubbed a hand across his chin, perhaps he should make more of an effort. 

A loud gong sounded from inside the house and Will flinched at the intruding sound, bringing an abrupt end to his thoughts. 

“Dinner,” Oliver announced, “shall we?” He asked the others around the table. 

⚣

###  **20:40**

“Is mama back from poker?” Elio asked Mafalda’s back as he entered the kitchen, plates stacked in his hands. He'd been so preoccupied with the neighbours, the time had run away with him. 

The evening was quite a success, he thought. Both men fascinating in their own right, both relatable. Nigel was far from what you would expect from someone with his past, well seasoned in many disciplines judging by their wandering discussions that spanned cathedral design all the way to anatomy. And Adam seemed prickly, or perhaps defensive, but there was a depth of understanding. Even if it was a foreign topic to him, Adam found ways to understand and draw valid conclusions from what he’d heard. Yes, these two would provide a wealth of entertainment in future meals shared, he was sure of it. 

Elio had been delighted when Even had crept closer, seeming to enjoy the conversation despite not taking part. That was when he wasn't visibly sizing up the couples around the table, undoubtedly missing the other half of him. Isak. Had Oliver checked yet? 

Before he had a chance to return to the lounge—where he'd left the other four men tinkering on the harpsichord—Mafalda shot a wary look over her shoulder, elbow deep in soap suds from the washing up bowl. Would getting a dishwasher ruin the rustic charm?

“You mind your business, young man. Your mother is out enjoying herself and she will be home when she is ready. She needs no minder.” Elio would have laughed at the obvious misdirection of irritation; Mafalda herself worried sick when his mother was out,  _ enjoying herself.  _ Which she most undoubtedly was. Since Oliver came back, a second youth had graced itself on her. As beautiful as it was to witness, it was also mildly terrifying. Everyone was on edge that one morning they would awake to find a note declaring she’d gone base jumping from a cliff on the coast. Yes, Elio would have laughed if he was sure that sharp implements weren't lurking in the soapy water. 

“No, no you're right. I'll um… let me do that.” He moved to her side, placing the plates on the countertop but wasn't fully facing her before a boney finger was thrust in his face.

“Do you think I'm decrepit?”

“What? No-” 

“Senile then?” 

“I didn't say-” 

“You think I can't clean some plates?” 

“I know you can it's just you cooked too and I thought you'd want to rest-”

“Listen, my boy, I've been cooking since before you were just a twinkle in your father's—no,  _ mother's  _ eye.” Elio grimaced at the visual implication but was given no respite, “I could cook in my sleep. Now, you run along before you make a mess of my kitchen.” 

Elio held his hands up in defeat, backing away from the matriarch who simply nodded in satisfaction before turning back to her work. It was the fact that he was walking backwards, and bemused by a disgruntled Mafalda, that caused him to walk straight into Oliver's path as he careered around the corner and into the kitchen. 

Arms wrapped around Elio’s waist and a kiss was pressed to his throat before Oliver let out a chuckle. “I'm not going to ask why you're fooling around because we don't have time.” 

Elio spun around. “Why? What happened?” he asked, frowning up at the other man who looked exceedingly pleased with himself. 

“I forgot to check early on. With the entertaining,” a look of guilt touched Oliver's face, “but it doesn't matter. I fixed it.” 

“Fixed what?” 

“Isak messaged a few hours ago. He was at Milan airport.”

“ _ Was _ ? Did he leave?” Elio was already worried things had gone amiss, and it showed in his voice. Oliver grinned and held him tighter.

“Yes, but he made his way to Crema. I'm gonna go pick him up.” 

“Now?” The question was asked too excitedly and they were shushed by Mafalda. 

“Out, out, out!” She declared, flapping her hands in their direction and sending soap suds dancing through the air like snow.

Wandering out of the kitchen, arm in arm, Oliver nodded and hummed his affirmation. 

“I'm coming.” said Elio. 

“No, you're not. You have guests to entertain.” 

“Who's going where?” came a third voice in front of them in the dark passageway. 

Elio brought up short, so intent on their plans they hadn't noticed Nigel in the dusky hall. His eyes flickered to the open doorway but the welcome sound of Adam and Even’s laugh made enough noise for them to go unheard. Despite that, Elio still whispered.

“Oliver is going to pick up Isak.” 

“Now?” Nigel asked softly, Elio nodded. “Well, Adam seems settled talking to Even and I could do with some night air. Do you need company?” 

“That would be perfect.” Oliver replied before Elio could interject. He wanted to go, but Oliver was right, it would be rude to ask their guests to go home when he'd invited them here. 

“Perfect,” he added, almost managing to sound indifferent, “you should slip away now, I'll make your excuses.” 

Nigel grinned, “Let's go and fix this saga.”

⚣

###  **20:58 - En route to Crema Train station**

“Excuse my imposition, and you are free to tell me to mind my own business, but it seems you aren’t long settled here with Elio.” It was obvious to Hannibal that the connection was old, the familiarity between them was aged and comfortable, but the situation was a new one. Either them being here or them being together.

“It's no imposition.” Oliver said, glancing at his passenger before slowing to steer the car around a corner. This place was beautiful but the roads were no more than beaten tracks in places. God forbid they come across a vehicle travelling in the opposite direction, then it was a matter of hoping there was a side ditch one car could duck into. The tiny fiat (another fragment from days past) was left in the driveway—by the looks of it, it hadn't been used in many years. The car that Hannibal currently sat very comfortably within was a 4x4. Which was great for terrain but didn't leave much space on these narrow and winding roads. “I'm new here, although we've known each other over two decades. Our relationship is new, I guess.  _ Rekindled _ .” 

Hannibal nodded. “You were married before?” He felt the frown that was aimed at him more than saw it, being as there wasn't much available light. 

“Is it obvious?” 

“No, except for enquiring minds. A rekindled love from years past, there must have been a reason to keep you apart. Two decades ago would have placed you at a time much more difficult to be who you want to be.” Oliver nodded along with the observation. “Judging how long you stayed away, I would hazard a guess at there being a family.” 

Oliver huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re astute.” he replied, rubbing his jaw. “Yes. To both. I have two sons, both at college now.”

“Do they visit?” Oliver tensed at the question before releasing a sigh and relaxing into his seat. Apparently Hannibal hadn’t lost the knack of putting people at ease, despite the questions being blunt. Sometimes people needed those sharp jabs. 

“I spoke to them both on the phone two weeks ago. They’re with their mother for summer. I told them what was going on and they didn't know what to say. And so I left it at that, a rather awkward impasse. They haven't called me since.” 

Hannibal hummed. It was an uncomfortable wait for Oliver, undoubtedly, but something to be expected, given the situation. “I would expect it's simply a matter of time.” 

“That's what Elio says. But I can't help but feel they'll reject me and that's worse than whatever the world wants to think.” Oliver's hands gripped the wheel a little tighter as he spoke, but the words still flowed free. Hannibal suspected he kept his fears in check for Elio's sake. 

“And you don't want Elio to feel any guilt for whatever fractures occur?” 

“You keep going on and I'll think you're a shrink.” 

Hannibal huffed a small and genuine laugh. “In my prior businesses I had to learn to observe people, their behaviours and relationships. It's something you can't unlearn.” 

“It's a good skill to have.” Oliver conceded. “And you're right. I don't want him to feel a shred of guilt. He doesn't deserve it.” 

“Guilt is something we rarely carry because we earned it, rather something we pick up because we care. As useless as the emotion is. Those that feel it rarely merit it and those that don't…” Hannibal left the rest of the words unsaid. He was that individual that didn't feel guilt, it was an unnecessary emotion. However, he felt what could only be described as remorse for some of his actions towards Will. 

Oliver stayed silent for a while, thoughtfully mulling over the words. “Do you think they'll accept it. Elio and I?”

“More than likely. I would assume they do just need time; as far as acceptance goes it's still quite something to find out your parent isn't who you thought they were. It takes longer still for them to realise that you are the exact same person and—in reality—it didn't change a thing.  _ Well _ , except for your own happiness, which they will appreciate—again, in time. This too shall pass.” Hannibal smiled a genuine smile at Oliver, despite it being lost somewhere in the dark. He could feel the other man's confidence growing with each word, until a long breath was released. 

“I think you're right. I  _ hope,  _ at least _.”  _

_ “ _ I usually am.” Hannibal jested and Oliver shook his head, laughing at the self assurance meant to smooth over worries. “And you're extremely lucky, to come back to what you have, with Elio. Your children are in the world to make their own way now and you have returned to your belonging.”

“That I know, all too well. Sometimes I imagine I'll wake up one day and it will all be a dream.” 

“Some cultures believe that life is a dream and one that we all must wake from. Make the most of this dream you've been granted.” Hannibal spoke to Oliver but the words cut keenly into his own consciousness. He didn't want to wake from this dream either, the dark times had evolved into this peace—a truce, and he didn't want that white flag to turn red. 

“Oh, I will.” Oliver assured. “Every day— _ every moment _ is rare.” 

“A rare gift.” Hannibal added to a hum of agreement from the other man. Silence settled in the car as the roads widened and the turns became more frequent. 

“Enough of me. Do you think you'll both settle here? I admit it'd be nice to keep you as neighbours.” 

The question was unexpected: firstly, that he and Will would be warmed to as a couple quite so quickly, and secondly, Hannibal hadn’t taken a moment to consider settling. After the months they had lived through, all the change in dynamics within their relationship and what they’d accomplished side by side; to become anonymous, to have a rebirth together. Could he entertain the thought of settling? 

“I've never truly settled in one spot. Always gathered my resources and laid plans to be able to leap from one place to the next, if it was required.” Hannibal mused. 

“That's not an answer,” Oliver chuckled, “Can you imagine  _ staying  _ here?” 

And he  _ could  _ envision them leading a quiet life here, all too clearly now that he thought of it. A quiet life he’d  _ never  _ yearned for. But if they were together, that would be enough. More than enough. “I think I can.” Hannibal replied, lost in his own curious thoughts.

“It's a place that would make any restless wanderer want to lay their hat. The space, the peace. It's almost like entering a separate realm. It's mostly unchanged, when everything else seems to hurtle into the future.” 

He was right. As the days had passed them by, worries seemed to unravel and any lingering doubts between them had fallen free. Will was looking for the next thing to worry about, it took the form of Elio. Hannibal couldn't help the small smile that played on his lips at the thought of jealousy within Will, as if Hannibal already hadn't proved that he was the singular exception to every rule Hannibal had ever made. There would never be anyone else but Will for him now. 

Having admitted that, Hannibal  _ was _ still Hannibal and he couldn't help but pluck at that stray thread Will thought no one had noticed. Compared to the games they used to play with one another,  _ this _ was harmless. It was a good thing he was stuck in the house with Elio, perhaps he would start up a friendship. Will would find much in common, and it wouldn't hurt for Elio's carefree mantras to infect him either. 

Hannibal couldn't blame Will for his trepidation; the last few years had been a maelstrom and he was expecting the next battle to come.  _ Here _ maybe there could be a line drawn. Wouldn't it be something for their worst fears to be that they hadn't acquired all the ingredients for an evening meal with the neighbours? 

“The location and the natives are both exceptional, perhaps Adam and I might host the next dinner party?” He was sure Will wouldn't be entirely thrilled with Hannibal’s offer—at least without consulting with him first—but it was something for Hannibal to look forward to. Will had his fishing and Hannibal liked entertaining, this was the first opportunity he’d had to do such a thing in almost four years. 

“I'm sure Elio will be ecstatic. I am too, I've suspicions you’re handy in the kitchen.” 

Hannibal huffed a small laugh. He may have given too much away over dinner talk, but he did get carried away when presented by clean, fresh and simple food. “I may know a recipe or two. But I warn you, I can't give my secrets away.” 

“Where's the fun in life without a few secrets?” Oliver replied. “Besides it will keep us coming around for more.” He added with a laugh.

“I hope so.” Hannibal mused, and he did. He liked them both enough, he was sure Will would too. 

“Ah, here we are.” 

Hannibal focused on the road as they slowed, curving around the bend until they stopped on the straight in front of the train station. There was a youth outside, practically bouncing on his toes, a backwards cap sat on his head which swivelled from side to side as he looked up and down the road, eyeing each car that passed. There was a large holdall at his feet and a backpack hanging from one shoulder.

“I believe we found our Isak.” Hannibal declared.

⚣

 


	4. Revelations and Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He doesn’t actually know you’re coming. He doesn’t know we messaged you.” Oliver admitted, hesitantly.
> 
> “He doesn’t know?” Isak replied. He didn’t know if that made things better or a million times worse. 
> 
> Oliver shook his head. “In our defence, he was being stubborn. Once we knew what had happened, we were worried about you first. But it’s obvious you should talk, he’s convinced you hate him, either way—so we meddled.” the last words were said apologetically. 
> 
> Isak nodded after the momentary stupor cleared. “Why… why would he think I hate him?”
> 
> “That you’re gonna have to ask him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here I am HIHIHI <3 with another chapter...
> 
> Thank you [LadyDarkness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Darkness/pseuds/Lady_Darkness) for always lending your eyes and giving your feedback, it's invaluable.
> 
> ENJOY!

###  **21:32 - En route to the Perlman Villa**

It was a complex myriad of emotions Isak was feeling. Sat in the back of a stranger’s car, watching unfamiliar and dark scenery pass him by. There was a sense of unease, that he had just come all the way out here to be driven into seclusion by people he didn’t know. He should have called his dad to let him know where he was going and with who… but then they knew about Even. It  _ was _ going to be fine.

_ Even _ . Once his fleeting concerns of safety were squandered by the thought of Even, impatience suddenly set in. How long was the journey there? After all these days apart, every minute was stretching out. And yet, reluctance raged against that emotion. What if he did need his space, his time? What if he didn’t even want to see Isak. The very fact that he was absent from the welcome party was a red flag in itself. Fingernails bit into sweaty palms as Isak worried away. Suddenly concerns about his own well being were the welcome escape. 

“Isak?”

He blinked, focussing on the face of the man in the passenger seat, turned back towards him.  _ Nigel _ —that was it. The low and soft glow of light available by the stars and the occasional shop front made the man’s features even more severe, despite that there was a calming quality in the way he spoke. There was an accent in his voice but Isak couldn’t make out which, whereas Oliver was clearly American. How did they know each other? Questions kept registering in his mind but he couldn’t catch hold of a thought long enough to process it, let alone verbalise it. 

“Are you ok?” Nigel frowned in concern, eyes skimming over his face in a calculating way, just like a doctor would.

Isak swallowed. He felt nauseous. “I feel sick.” It was about all he could say.

“Hey,” Oliver looked back over his shoulder quickly before refocusing on the road, “it’s ok, there’s nothing to worry about. Do you want me to pull over?”

Isak shook his head. “I’ll be ok. Is  _ he _ OK?” There hadn’t been time to ask questions over messenger besides reply to state he was coming. Then he’d received the message back to say he would be picked up. It didn’t seem right to ask how Even was by text anyway,  _ or _ Isak was worried what the answer would be. Probably the latter.

Nigel looked at Oliver, deferring to him. “He’s fine. Glum and missing you but he’s ok.”

“But he didn’t want to come with you to get me?” Isak frowned as Nigel snorted a short laugh.

“He doesn’t actually know you’re coming. He doesn’t know we messaged you.” Oliver admitted, hesitantly.

_ “He doesn’t know?”  _ Isak replied. He didn’t know if that made things better or a million times worse. 

Oliver shook his head. “In our defence, he was being stubborn. Once we knew what had happened, we were worried about you first. But it’s obvious you should talk, he’s convinced you hate him, either way—so we meddled.” the last words were said apologetically. 

Isak nodded after the momentary stupor cleared. “Why… why would he think I hate him?”

“ _ That _ you’re gonna have to ask him.”

Isak took in a deep breath. Maybe this wouldn’t end in disaster, he wasn’t aware of how convinced he was that that was the case until that moment. Emotion had been balled tight within him and now he was talking about it, and on his way to confront it, it was all beginning to untangle. His emotions were raw and on the surface and he wasn’t sure which one would erupt first. 

“Are you sure he’s…  _ ok?  _ Has he been hard to follow, you know, when he talks? Or… or it’s hard to connect with him? Or he’s really happy and then really  _ sad _ ?”

Nigel looked at Oliver and then back at Isak. He could feel the man’s curiosity at the detailed question. 

Oliver raked a hand through his hair. “Er… Elio has talked to him more than I have. But it’s nothing more than that adolescent heartsickness I’ve seen more than once before. What do you mean by hard to connect with?”

Isak opened his mouth, not wanting to talk so candidly about Even’s disorder with people he’d just met but it seemed necessary to understand where Even was right now. Or maybe he should keep it to himself?

“Does Even suffer from depression?” Nigel asked, a direct question but one that for some reason didn’t seem like a probe, more a life line. But how did he know? Isak nodded. “Bipolar?”

“Yes.” he answered, curiosity taking over his emotional whirlwind, for the moment at least. “How did you—”

“I have experience in that field.” Nigel offered with a small smile. 

If the sideways glance that Oliver shot Nigel was anything to go on, this wasn’t just new to Isak. So, they didn’t know each other that well. Did they just get together to help mend broken hearts? Scepticism settled on Isak again.

“So, how do you two know each other?” he asked.

“We’re neighbours. We were having a dinner party this evening.” Oliver replied, steering around a turn. Both men were focussed on the road ahead.

“And you usually….  _ assemble  _ to help broken hearted couples get back together? That’s noble.” Isak felt more comfortable with the dry edge back in his voice. He must be feeling more himself. Luckily, both men laughed at the question. Isak supposed he shouldn’t come off as too rude.

“I offered to keep Oliver company, plus I like to take in the evening air.” Nigel spoke first, polite and crisp in his words which seemed to be his demeanor. It contradicted his choice of clothes; Isak decided the only thing worse than a dog print shirt was a hawaiian shirt.

“And Even is actually our first guest, renting out one of the rooms.” Oliver added.

“Our? I thought you were neighbours?” 

“By our I meant Elio, my partner. He’s at the Villa with Even and Nigel’s husband, Adam.”

A surprised snort of laughter from Isak caused both men to look back at him. Schooling his face into something close to serious, he tried to explain himself. “I just went from Morocco to—you know— _ this _ . It’s nice.” It was a contrast, even from home. Sure, they had plenty of friends who were gay or bi or pan. But straight or whatever, most of their friends were a mess when it came to responsibilities, inside and outside of relationships. These were grown gay folk, two of whom were a married couple. The thought made Isak sombre again, he wasn’t sure where anything stood anymore. He  _ thought  _ Even and he were grown themselves… he’d find out soon enough. 

As if fate itself had read his thoughts, the car began to slow over gravel, coming to a stop outside a generous Villa. The downstairs lights were on that he could see, spreading a warm glow over the sprawling grounds. Isak’s eyes travelled up to a balcony on the first floor where a dimmer light outlined an open doorway. It was probably a bedside lamp making that muted glow, and—just as he decided that was the case—the light switched off.

“Here we are.” Oliver said as he shut off the engine.

“There's a balcony.” Isak murmured, almost to himself.

The two men opened their doors in unison. “Yes, it belongs to the adjoining guest rooms. Your rooms, for however long you wish to say.”

Isak continued to stare at the building, as the after image of that square of light still danced in front of his eyes. This  _ could  _ work out the way he’d planned.

⚣

###  **21:59**

“Takk— _ thank you _ , for dinner and the wine and…  _ the wine _ . But if I don’t stop and sleep now, I’ll probably embarrass myself and shock everyone. Trust me.” Even took another step towards the door and Will tried to look for another reason to stall his departure. He and Elio had been working in tandem to keep the younger man up long enough for this reunion that they were all so suddenly invested in. Oh, how life had changed drastically. There was the added bonus of escaping being alone with Elio too. There was just no damn fault in him.

“But we didn’t even have dessert.” Elio put in. That had been completely forgotten about, which was surprising for Will considering it was some family recipe whipped mousse, with fresh fruit coulis. It had sounded delicious. But they’d been so busy pouring more wine and tinkering with the instrument, the time had passed so fast. 

“I don’t think I could eat anymore if my life depended on it.” said Even, with a grin and running a hand over his stomach. 

“Just try a bit. Oliver should be back any minute, you can say your good-nights-” Elio's words were interrupted by Will's hand resting on his shoulder.

“I think we should let him go. He can always come over tomorrow to say his good-nights,” there was no point in forcing it, besides—putting their own selfish desires behind them—Even and Isak would probably appreciate privacy for whatever was to come between them, “that's if you're not too  _ busy _ .” Will added with a grin. Elio snorted a laugh at the private quip that left Even frowning. 

Eyes darted from Will to Elio as the comment was analysed. “I'm not busy tomorrow, I'll drop around after breakfast.” 

“So expect him after midday.” Elio said turning to Will. His grin was altogether contagious and Will was becoming more irate at his inability to stop a comradery bloom. 

“Hey,” Even held his hands up defensively but smiled in that easy laid back way, he could take a joke Will was learning, “I'm on holiday. And young people like to sleep late, I know it's probably hard for you to remember all that far back.” He laughed the words out, Even could give just as good. 

“ _ Ha _ ! Is that how it is?” Elio nudged Will with his elbow. “I think we're being challenged by the cub, Adam.” 

“What's to be done about that?” Will replied with playful seriousness. 

“Well, whatever it is it'll have to wait until morning.” Even slapped the wood of the doorway before half slipping from the room. “Sleep well.” he chimed before he disappeared down the hall to his farewells being answered. 

Elio sighed turning to Will, sat on the other end of the piano seat. It suddenly felt too small. “Do you play then?” 

Will shot a puzzled look over at the other man. “What makes you ask?” 

He shrugged. “Just the way you were fingering the keys earlier. Like you were trying to remember a tune without playing.” 

Will hadn't realised anyone had noticed him. They'd all been busy dissecting the ingredients in a salad dressing— _ well, _ Hannibal had been trying to guess the recipe. “I did. Not in years though, even Nigel doesn't know.”

“No? Why not.” 

Will levelled a flat stare at Elio. “You've seen him. He’d be so ecstatic I could play something a step up from chopsticks and I’d never escape his insistence for lessons and to perform  _ duets  _ at social events. I'm not quite the same showman; I'd be more likely to set off a series of catastrophic events if I even tried to entertain like he does _. _ ” He said dryly. Elio laughed that genuine laugh that forced Will to grin.

“I can see that. Except the showman part, you don't give yourself enough credit.” Elio turned his attention to the music sheets on the stand in front of him and Will was left staring at his humbly proud profile. How could he even know that? 

“How would you know that?” He’d meant to come off as more offensive, but instead Will surprised himself by sounding curious. 

Elio just shrugged as he fingered the sheets, shuffling through until he plucked one out and placed it at the front. “Nigel seems an extrovert, that's his way of entertaining, with flourishes. You're different, but—I think—just as interesting.” 

_ Interesting?  _ Will wasn't sure when the last time was that someone had not assumed they already knew him based on what they’d heard already; making assumptions of his stability or sociable capabilities. Interesting wasn't a word usually used to describe Will, except from Hannibal's atypical and curious perspective. That had evolved, he supposed, from the cold intrigue into his pathology when they'd first met but Hannibal hadn't communicated that. Did Will need him to? 

“Well... thank you.” he realised his cheeks were flushed. It must be the wine. Did you say thank you after someone told you you were interesting? This was carefree, beautiful, sculpture perfect and intelligent Elio considering  _ him _ interesting. But by the curious look aimed at him and the small smile that played on Elio's lips he supposed that wasn't the correct response.  

“I'm just saying what I think. I could be wrong,” he snorted, “you could be the most dull person in existence. But I doubt it.” 

“ _ That _ sounds more like it.” Will put in. 

“Or you're just self-deprecating. Like someone waiting to lose everything and not be surprised at all by it because you'll feel you didn't deserve it.” Elio was intent on the black flowing lines in front of him now, elegant fingers finding notes and playing gentle chords. Will focussed on those hands and remembered to close his mouth. How did Elio do that? 

“How- _ why _ would you think that?” Will managed after a stunned silence. 

Elio breathed easily as he seemed to sync with the scrawlings on the paper and the instrument—a conduit—and still was able to talk. “Sometimes you meet like minded people and—although you dress it up differently—you see your skeletons are the same.” 

Will chewed his lip. He'd seen that humble quality in Elio, perhaps he would have seen more if he hadn't been so focussed on the superficial and seeing the man as a potential threat. Like he seemed to view everything. 

“I left him for a long time when he gave everything up for me. I… married someone else.” it sounded a lot worse when it was recounted, and was shocking enough for Elio to stop playing. The look Will received was not judgemental, it was more an amused surprise. He even huffed a small laugh as he shook his head. 

“This sounds familiar.” Will frowned at Elio, did he mean Even? It was hardly comparable. “It doesn't matter,” he continued, seeming to read Will's mind as the surprise melted from his face, “the point is he waited. He welcomed you back. How were things once you’d returned.” 

Will rubbed his chin as he thought. They hadn't been brought back together by choice, no matter how inevitable their rejoining was, Will was still rejecting Hannibal.  _ But _ , once he'd dropped the resistance? 

“Better. We understood each other more. We gave in to each other.” Killed together, fell together, disappeared together. And there were no regrets.

“Trust me. If you leave someone to move on and—after however long—you come back, there's nothing to forgive  _ and _ you're stronger together…,” he shrugged, “you don't have much to worry about. He'd probably die for you. But if you keep looking for problems, sure enough you'll find some. Or create them.” 

Will struggled to find a counter, Elio was more true than he probably realised. Despite the likelihood that it would never be plain sailing, what was the point in spending half of his time worrying about invariables? If he didn't enjoy the good that he found with Hannibal, who would? Will found himself nodding. 

“You're right.” he admitted. 

Elio snorted. “It's not about being right, it's about being logical where emotions are involved. Which is near impossible when your are in the midst of those emotions. Love wouldn't be love without pain and fear and guilt, but we have to enjoy the elation it gives us alongside the suffering. Like light and dark; you can’t have light without creating shadows.” 

“You've been surviving a long time with the light  _ and  _ the dark.” Will observed more than asked, he couldn't help feel a little smug at the questioning look he received. 

After a moment Elio nodded. “For a long time there was more dark than light, but I decided to embrace it all; I didn’t close my eyes to it—after some sage advice from my own father. I kept it alive until there was more good than bad.” 

Will was quietly surprised. He'd felt there was something unique about his hosts relationships. Like the first love of adolescents had been bottled and preserved; they were like teens, only seeing the good in each other. But it hadn't always been good, they had to go through the worst to appreciate every simple smile like it might be the last thing they see. There was more to the story but he wouldn't dig, he  _ could _ learn from Elio, he could learn to appreciate what he had. It inspired confidence in Will that happiness wasn't something that was just a natural state, it was earnt. It’s easy to assume happiness was supposed to be a simple matter of the right chemistry when you only saw the good presented.

Will sighed heavily, eyes now focussing on the sheet music. A smile crept on to his cheeks as Elio began to play the simple tune on the high keys, he followed the top line of notes that Elio was working on, underneath was another scale to be played in tandem. A duet. The other man's fingers moved leisurely, waiting to see if Will would join in. 

Frowning, Will focussed waiting until the next bar began before joining in the melody. The first few chords weren't perfect, but the delighted laugh that came from Elio only encouraged Will's focus. Confidence began to surge as he exercised reflexes that hadn't been used in a long while and proved to himself that he wasn't so bad.

“I used to hate that my dad would make me play at dinner parties,” Elio murmured as they continued to play the duet, albeit far less complex than the one he'd played early with Hannibal—that was all jumps and twists whereas this was all soft and mellow, it suited Will. “but now I see the appeal.” 

“Are you gonna keep talking, or are you going to play like you mean it.” Will teased. Elio bumped him with his shoulder before they both started to play in earnest. Will's eyes flickered between music and keys and Elio took to the peddle, shortening notes and lengthening them with precision. 

And, in what felt like a very bewildering and gratifying few moments, the bars came to an end with a delicate myriad of notes on Elio's end and minor chords Will's. 

He huffed a short laugh, turning to Elio to say something when the startling noise of clapping came from Will's back. He felt his cheeks flare with heat as he spun around to be greeted by Hannibal and Oliver and a shorter youth with a cap on. 

“I didn't know you were there.” Will stated, not able to keep the accusatory tone from his words. 

“Evidently.” Hannibal smirked at him. He'd hear about this later. 

Elio jumped up from the stool, he looked about to shout a greeting before his eyes looked ceiling bound. Moving towards the young man, he held out his hand. The poor kid looked like he had about a million things going through his head, he was pale too. Probably with worry. 

“ _ Isak _ !” Elio stated in an excited whisper. His hand dangled in the air, Isak looked like he'd forgotten how to speak let alone shake a hand, so Elio gripped him in a tight hug. Will could hear the air leave the kid as it was squeezed out of him. “I'm Elio and I’m also so glad you're here. He's upstairs. He  _ needs _ you.” he said, holding him by the shoulders. Looking over his shoulder at Will, still seated and reeling over being caught out as he had, Elio nodded in his direction. “That's Adam, but there's time for that tomorrow.” he started to usher a mute Isak towards the hallway. 

“Wait.” Will put in before they’d made it out the room. Elio frowned at him as he got to his feet, grabbing the half glass of wine and walking towards the pair. “You could probably do with this.” he said, offering the glass to Isak, who simply nodded, downed the wine in one gulp and handed the glass back, grimacing at the alcohol burn.

“Thanks.” he muttered, a small timid smile played on his lips. Will doubted he was nervous of them, he was purely terrified of whatever he was about to face. Hopelessly love struck and love sick. 

“Good luck.” he said, as Elio began directing him up the stairs. 

⚣

###  **22:16**

Even’s head hit the pillow as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He could get used to having his own balcony that he’d leave open all night. He watched as the muted greys shifted when the breeze moved the netting that hung in front of the open doorway. The sound of car doors shutting announced the return of Oliver and Nigel, he could hear their feet moving over the gravel but other than that they were quiet, excepting a few soft words exchanged. It was a contrast against the music that had been drifting up the stairs, slowly becoming more intense.

Letting out a heartfelt sigh, he turned on his side and wrapped the covers around him. Everyone here was nice,  _ more  _ than nice. Well rounded, eloquent, intelligent. Even sensed there was a lot he could learn from each character currently downstairs, all differing in their skills and personality and, in their own ways, successful; whether in their personal life or relationships. There was adversity that he was aware of and some just hinted at, but they’d come to this point, and  _ together _ . 

And here he was running from everything. He should have talked to Isak, either way he wouldn’t have to deal with the doubt that had manifested in him. He still would have been able to run, but with the surety in his actions. He’d royally fucked up now.

Spending time here was healing, it was peaceful. Even could think. But in the same breath it was so hard to be around people that had one another, it just made him miss Isak even more. He should message him, that was the only way he could stop these constant thoughts. He would message him and now.

Pushing himself up from the bed, he opened the draw where he’d stored his phone. Grabbing it, he switched it on and stared as the screen lit up. Anxiety twisted his stomach at the thought of how many missed calls there would be and voicemails and texts... Before his phone had found signal, footsteps drew his attention away. They were coming towards his door and stopped on the other side. Something was placed on the floor before knuckles wrapped on the wood softly. There was a heavy exhale. It was probably Oliver, checking on him but—as appreciative as he was of the man’s apparent protectiveness—Even didn’t want to talk right now. If he was quiet, then Oliver would think he was asleep.

After a few still and silent moments, the person on the other side of the door cleared their throat. It sounded familiar in a strange way. Even frowned at how exactly the sound of someone doing that could be so unique.

“Even Bech Næsheim, open this fucking door.”

Even’s mouth fell open.  _ Isak _ .

⚣


	5. Bickering and Balconies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes. It’s a big thing, Isak. You hiding something. You never hide things.”
> 
> “It wasn't a big thing.” Even frowned at him, obviously sceptical. Isak sighed. “Ok it was-is a big thing. But you took it wrong.”
> 
> “So, it's not about me?” Even pointed at himself as if Isak wouldn’t know who he was talking about.
> 
> Isak rolled his eyes. “It is about you.”
> 
> “So it’s a big thing and it’s about me, it’s making you uncomfortable and weird and you’re hiding stuff? This isn’t making me feel any better about whatever is going on. Why didn’t you talk to me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm running late AARRGHHH sorry... life happened today <3 
> 
> But here's the bit you've been waiting for. Or well I have... so. There. Ha. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> Becs <3

###  **Tuesday 22:20 - Crema, Perlman Villa**

Isak heard a loud bang, followed by a procession of thumps as Even hurtled towards the door. In his mind, he imagined Even falling clean out of the bed in his haste to get to the door. Isak would laugh if it wasn't for the serious consequences of their impending conversation. 

He'd thought of his lines, rehearsed what he was going to say and how. But as the door opened, his mouth went dry. And then there he was; Even. Standing in front of him and looking just as off balance as Isak felt. There were no clues as to how  _ he _ felt though, the only thing that could be read was shock. Of all the emotions that struggled inside of Isak, anger broke free first. 

_ “What the fuck, Even?”  _

Even just dropped his eyes, looking ashamed of himself.  _ Good _ . But still, that didn't mean anything. He could feel uncomfortable that Isak found him because he didn't want to see him. Well, he would pull it out of Even whether he liked it or not.

“You can't just fucking disappear. Are you OK?” despite the ire that made his voice rougher than he intended, the ever constant worry that Even was  _ not  _ OK—that he'd needed help that not many could give—reared its head. Blue eyes looked at him long enough for him to nod, he knew what Isak meant. Then his gaze was downcast again. Shame was an entirely new emotion on Even and Isak found himself irritated to see it there.  _ Why _ ? 

“Good,” he said, more aggressive than he intended. Struggling for words, Isak was lost for where to go next. He'd assumed Even would have more to say than nothing. Huffing, he shook his head before bringing his hands up to shove against Even’s chest. Even let himself be pushed, there was no resistance there. But it served Isak’s need, he’d touched him. It was an combative way to go around it but he didn't feel in the mood to embrace Even, despite it being the only thing he wanted in the world; fear and anger stood in the way. 

“Don't you have anything to say? Jesus Christ, Even. I've been so worried and you're right here; alive and well.” Picking up his bag, Isak barged into the room and pushed past Even. He wouldn't get out of his space until Even told him what the fuck had happened. 

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-” 

Chucking his bag on the drawers, Isak spun around to face Even, cutting him off. “Didn't mean to what? Make me worry? Make me sick with fear? Pull the rug out from my feet with no warning? How did you expect me to react? To fly home and forget about where you were, what you were going through? You think I’m that shit a boyfriend?” Isak scrubbed at his face, the emotion that welled in him now was overcoming the anger; pain. He was desperate not to cry, realising he'd been holding his tears back for over three days now. 

Walking to the chair near the balcony, Isak slumped into it. Head in hands, he peered through his fingers, Even stood in the same spot with the door still open and looking completely dumbfounded. 

“What were you making easier for me?  _ Talk to me! _ ” he needed Even to do the talking because his voice was beginning to break under the emotion. 

“I thought I'd done something. You were different.” 

Isak frowned. “Done what? Nothing happened—nothing bad. I thought it was all good— _ Great _ . It's why I don't understand.” The words tumbled out of Isak without him being able to stop them. Then the last part of Even’s statement struck him. “Different, how?” 

Even sighed and folded his arms, leaning against the set of drawers. “You just were. After that day in the market you were…  _ weird _ . And every day it got worse, you just wouldn't say what was on your mind. You'd get quiet and uncomfortable when it was just us. And then you flipped your shit when I tried to take your keys,” he nodded towards Isak’s coat, laid on top his bags, “you were hiding something.” 

Isak blinked in disbelief. Had he been that obvious? He forgot that Even could see through him, knew him better than he knew himself. But he’d misread it all entirely. “You left because of  _ that _ ?” He couldn't help his voice peaking incredulously. 

“Yes. It’s a big thing, Isak. You hiding something. You never hide things.” 

“It wasn't a big thing.” Even frowned at him, obviously sceptical. Isak sighed. “Ok it was- _ is  _ a big thing. But you took it wrong.” 

“So, it's not about me?” Even pointed at himself as if Isak wouldn’t know who he was talking about.

Isak rolled his eyes. “It  _ is  _ about you.”

“So it’s a big thing and it’s about me, it’s making you uncomfortable and weird and you’re hiding stuff? This isn’t making me feel any better about whatever is going on. Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“Because,” Isak threw up his hands and sat up straight, there hadn’t been the right time. He‘d been waiting but everytime a moment passed by, it got harder to say. “ _ What about you?”  _ He was exasperated, not knowing how to explain himself and still mad at Even for not waiting until he had, “You didn’t talk before you just fucked off. Why didn’t  _ you  _ ask me?”

Even tilted his head to the side and looked at Isak with that flat expression he would wear that always seemed a hair's breadth away from cracking into a smile. Isak missed his smile. “If I’d asked you, you’d become  _ more  _ stubborn— _ and  _ deflecting, like you’re doing now. I can always tell when something’s under your skin,” he shrugged, “usually just giving you some time is enough… for you to get it off your chest.  _ This  _ was different. You didn’t budge and I didn’t know what to do. And every day you kept it to yourself, I started to freak out more about what I’d done. I felt like I was going mad.” he scrubbed a hand through his hair, whilst studying his toes. “I began to feel like a burden, like you had to put up with me when you'd go quiet. I just wanted to make it easier for you to get away from me because I convinced myself that’s what you wanted. I don’t want to make you sad.” Blue eyes were back on Isak, earnest and serious.

Isak realised he wasn’t breathing. Remedying that, he stood from his chair, ready to explode. “I go quiet a few times and so you run away.  _ To make me happy _ ?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It  _ sounds  _ that simple. I don’t believe you.  _ Fuck _ !” They had been on completely different planes. If Isak had been able to stop worrying to the point he wasn’t paying attention, maybe he would have seen it and  _ notice  _ that Even had been on edge as well. He  _ should  _ have known. And now he was battling against the irritation that was flaring at his need to empathise, because it’d all been a clusterfuck of miscommunication starting with him.  _ He’d  _ made  _ Even  _ sad. Low enough to feel he had to run away. But it wasn’t about right or wrong, it was just about them now. 

“What don’t you believe?” Even frowned at him.  

Where did Isak even start? He had no idea that Even could even consider himself a burden. This was all new and completely wrong. Searching the room, he found no prompt so he huffed in frustration. Wasn’t it obvious to Even? “That you just… you can’t just up and fucking leave, Even. You can’t do that to me.” Isak sounded like he felt: desperate, and Even looked perplexed. Maybe he’d just expected anger from Isak. “Don’t leave me again, not like that.” He looked up at Even, pleadingly. 

“I didn’t  _ want  _ to go.” he replied softly, after a stunned silence, still not moving from his spot on the drawers. “I just couldn’t stay and watch you be like that with me. You snapped at me, over whatever was in your fucking pocket.”

Isak scratched the nape of his neck. He wanted to avoid  _ that  _ right now. “Don’t you think your reaction was a bit… over dramatic.”

Even snorted in disbelief. “Me? Over dramatic. Isak are  _ you  _ really calling  _ me _ over dramatic?”

“Well I see no-one else standing here.” Even shook his head and laughed, Isak smirked at him before they remembered themselves. Usually this would be the point Isak would tease and Even would play along. Usually. Right now there was still too much in the way. But it was a diversion and Isak saw the moment Even clocked it, steering him away from where he’d been heading. As Even opened his mouth to continue in the same line of thought, Isak interrupted. But it was something he knew now he needed to say, something he hadn’t realised Even needed to here from him. He thought Even already knew. 

“But I don’t care about dramatics or… or you running away—well, I  _ do  _ care. I don’t want you to ever feel you have to run away because I  _ need  _ you.” he took a step towards Even, “We need each other. I was an asshole before us. Fake and a mess. You made me a man. You make me want to  _ be  _ a better man.”

Even had been listening to his words with a small smile before his eyebrows drew together in amusement, “Did you just quote-”

“Yeah, that terrible movie that _you_ made me watch... but I watched because I love _you_. And it _was_ terrible.” Now Even was looking at him in a way that only occurs when Isak is blushing, because—he realised—he was. It was the same way anyone else would look at a box of kittens. Clearing his throat, he tried to salvage his dignity. “The point is… I can’t be without you. So you’re stuck with me. OK?”

Even’s smirk had returned, “OK.” he said. But it was only a moment of peace that lasted on his face before Isak saw those worries that hadn’t been answered yet. “But, can you tell me what happened. What is this big thing you have going on that is to do with me?”

Isak sighed and dropped his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Can’t we just leave that tonight?” The silence that met his question was an honest answer. Dropping his chin to find Even’s eyes on him again it only confirmed that notion; Even wouldn’t push him for an answer but it would eat him up until he knew. Maybe there was no better time than now?  _Life is now._

“OK,” he announced to the room “ _ fine.  _ But you can never complain about this, you asked for it.” He started moving around and Even watched in confusion as he grabbed his coat and walked out to the balcony, only to return a second later and toss the garment on the bed. Then he made a beeline for the door. “Wait here.” he muttered to himself as he left the room. 

⚣

###  **22:39**

“It seems like you were right. About there being something else.” Oliver murmured into Elio's ear. 

All four of them had moved outside to enjoy the evening and finish the wine, there was an excitement buzzing between them after bringing the two young men together. They all seemed to be sitting on the edge of their seats, promises had been made to call over in the morning to report findings if nothing was revealed tonight. Unless things went badly, Oliver assumed they wouldn't see hide nor hair of either Isak or Even for at least a good twelve hours. 

Oliver had used the temporary lull in the group conversation to gain Elio's attention with a soft touch to his arm. Nigel was pestering Adam, trying to find out exactly what level of piano playing he was taught to. 

“Hm?” Elio turned his face to Oliver. “What something else?” 

“With Even.” 

“Oh?” He answered curiously, leaning in towards Oliver.

“He’s bipolar. I'm guessing that's what you picked up on.” Oliver whispered. 

Elio stared thoughtfully back at the balcony. “That explains some of the things he said.” he chewed on his lower lip. “I hope they're ok.” 

“From what I make of Isak they'll be fine. He looked worried sick, and only really concerned with whether Even was well.” 

Elio huffed a laugh. “He looked petrified.”

“That may have been partly down to all of us. But he does look like a man with a mission of some great consequence to undertake.” Oliver smiled at the thought of them both—young and in love and hopeless without one another. Before he could further ponder whatever secrets were between the young men, both hushed conversations fell silent at the sound of footsteps. 

“ _ Uh-oh _ .” Elio said softly, before Isak strode out of the house, face as pale as it had been before. When he saw them sat at the table he froze mid stride, then looked up at the balcony. 

“Everything OK-” Oliver began before Isak pushed a finger to his own lips to quiet him. Shooting a confused look at the men sat around the table, bewildered looks were reflected back. What was he doing? The young man just paced under the balcony for a moment. 

“Tabs on Romeo and Juliet.” Adam leant forward to whisper. And that's certainly what it looked like it was shaping up to be. 

“Do you think we should go inside?” Nigel murmured but all eyes were focussed on the scene unfolding: Isak was staring up at the ledge above him, hands on his hips as if willing the words to come from some omnipotent force. 

“No,” Elio hissed back, “he might need us for moral support.” 

“Absolutely no curious motives involved, huh?” Oliver quipped, shouldering into Elio who cast him an innocent smirk. 

“Absolutely not.” 

Isak cleared his throat and the table was quiet again. Oliver was sure that the young man rolled his eyes at nothing at all but his own embarrassment. 

“ _ Princess Vivian!”  _ he called up. There was a long and deathly silent pause. “ _ Princess Vivian!”  _ Isak repeated, a little more erratically. 

Oliver's mouth was wide open and a silence stretched out before Nigel spoke. 

“Is that an alternative version?” 

A snorted came from Oliver as he recognised the line. “It's from Pretty Woman.” he chuckled. Three pairs of eyes stared at him in silent and accusatory question. “ _ What _ ? I was married to a woman for twenty years.”

⚣

Even hadn't moved, he was rooted to the floor and watched the door waiting for Isak to return. Where had he gone? The urge to reach out as he'd passed Even had been unbearable. He needed to touch Isak, run his hands over him, taste him. But Isak had been wearing that determined expression that meant he was fully focussed on what seemed—judging by his stony expression—a daunting task. 

But he was taking forever. What was he doing? Just as Even decided to follow, he heard Isak’s voice from the balcony door. Frowning, Even tried to discern whether he actually heard what he thought he heard. Isak called out again, this time insistent. 

“ _ Princess Vivian!”  _

A laugh bust from Even’s chest as he lunged for the open door. Pushing the gossamer curtain aside, he made it to the edge of the balcony in three strides and leaned over to find, not only a slightly flushed Isak looking back, but an audience of four. 

“Isak, what the fuck are you doing?” he asked, grinning down.

Isak licked his lips and made a small exasperated shrug. “You know.” 

“I know what you're quoting. But those are  _ my  _ lines.” Even was still trying to figure out what was going on, although it was endearing, what did this have to do with him acting so weird? 

“Yeah, well, then it wouldn't have been a surprise.” 

Even didn't move. He didn't speak. Was this-? “ _ Seriously _ ?” it was about the only thing he could find to say. This was the last thing he'd expected-no, he hadn't even considered it. 

“Seriously.” Isak smiled, that sweet smile that Even knew was just his. Nodding to the part of the wall to Even’s right, Isak cleared his throat. “Look.” 

Even looked where he'd gestured and there sat a small leather pouch, like the ones they sold at the market in Marrakech. Looking at Isak quizzically, he picked it up and loosened the strings that drew the material closed. His fingers fell on cool material, but he already knew what it would be before he pulled it out. Glinting in the moonlight, Even could make out the hammered detail in the brass ring. It was exactly the same one he'd pointed out to Isak that day at the market. And now it all made sense: him going missing at the market, the silence, the nerves, snapping when Even had try to go through his pockets. He’d imagined the very worst and the reality was the complete opposite. That shame crept up on him again and he was speechless. How did he make up for this?

“Even?” he looked from the ring to Isak below , who looked unsure, probably assuming Even didn’t want this. Before he could find the words to reassure, Isak spoke first. “I know it’s a shock. And I’m sorry that I made you feel like something was wrong…  _ in a bad way _ . I just wanted it to be perfect and I guess this is near enough,” he gestured at their surroundings, “So, you brought us to the perfect place for me to do this. You can say no. And I know we said we’d take things day by day, hour by hour and minute by minute. But I know I don’t want to count down the seconds of my life with anyone else but you. So,” he shifted on his feet, nervously waiting, “there’s that.”

The laugh that came from Even made Isak frown. “ _ There’s that _ ? Is that what you’re asking me?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think I follow. You’re the brains, remember? You’ll have to be a bit more specific.” he teased. But his heart was in his mouth, and the way Isak just stared at him before he shook his own head made Even’s stomach twist with anticipation and nerves. 

Isak grunted a laugh. “ Even Bech Næsheim, will you marry me? Wait- _ Even _ , what the fuck are you doing?” 

After the question was out, he'd had no choice but to sling one leg over the wall, the other followed quickly. “I'm coming down.” he replied simply. 

“Then use the fucking stairs!” Isak was underneath where his legs were dangling, hands extended in some half thought out idea to catch Even. 

“That'll take too long.”

Laughter and movement came from the audience. Adam stood only for his arm to be grabbed by Nigel. “We've fallen further and survived. Kids are made of Teflon.” he assured. There had to be a story there, Even decided, before looking down at Isak. 

“You're going to need to move, baby, I don't want to land on you.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Isak spluttered as Even turned to slide on his stomach until just his hands held the balcony wall, “I'm supposed to climb up or something- _ Even!”  _

_ “ _ But then it wouldn't be a surprise.” Even’s reply was muffled by the wall he was speaking into, he shot a look back over his shoulder before letting go. Isak wavered beneath, caught between getting out of the way and sacrificing himself as a soft landing. It ended up being somewhere in between: Even landed so close, Isak lost his balance, toppling over and dragging Even down on top of him as he grabbed at clothing for purchase. 

They fell to the floor, Even landing on top of Isak. He didn’t waste any time in propping himself up on his elbows to grin down at Isak, as though falling like this had been his intention. “ _ Halla _ .”

Isak snorted, failing to repress the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Halla. And I’m fine by the way.” he snarked. 

“I know you are, you’re so tough.” Even replied with a laugh. 

“Well, I have to be tough when my boyfriend deserts me on holiday.” 

Even frowned at him. “You’re never going to let me forget this are you?”

“Never.” Isak grinned up at him but the gentle fingers stroking through Even’s hair were a contradiction to the jibe. “You never gave me an answer.”

“Isn’t this an answer?”

“I’m going to need a verbal contract—this isn’t legally binding.” 

“A verbal contract?” Isak hummed confirmation as Even began to smooth a wayward curl back from his forehead. Even was lost now, filled to bursting with happiness he could hardly contain with Iask here, close to him and needing each other just the same. This was all he would ever need. “Well then, Isak Valtersen, I would love nothing more than to marry you and spend the rest of my days running away  _ together  _ and jumping from balconies, hand in hand.”

“Well, less of the jumping but I’ll take it.”

“Oh, you will?”

“I guess.”

Even laughed again, “Good.” he murmured before seriousness settled on him. Considering Isak’s prickly nature towards the vast majority of the world, Even was always overwhelmed by the way the way the man beneath his body would look at him: wide green eyes, patiently waiting for Even and loving him for everything that he is. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, lowering himself down onto Isak, the hands in his hair beckoned him closer, “I won’t leave you again.”

Isak’s gaze alternated from his eyes to his mouth. “I’m sure you can find someway to make it up to me.” he teased, biting on his lower lip. 

Trying to hold back any longer was impossible. Even’s mouth sought out Isak’s, jealous of the teeth that bit into the plush of lip that was his. That was  _ his  _ job. A pleased laugh left Isak before it was muted by Even, kissing him with a passion that ignited as fast as a flame thrown onto gasoline. Relief and love and hope and adoration, all rolled into one desperate and needy kiss. A kiss that was met with just as much desire and hunger.

The pair didn’t hear the footsteps retreating into the house, nor the soft laughs that drifted with them. When they came up for air it was just them on the grass with the stars overhead.

“Can I take you upstairs and find a way to make it up to you then?” Even panted. Isak’s hands tightened their grip on his t-shirt before he answered.

“Not before I’ve had a shower.” Isak snickered. 

“That suits my plan. I've missed those things you do in the shower.” Even’s lips were moving down Isak’s throat in anticipation of the thorough making up he intended to do. 

“If you finish speaking to your parents before I’m through you can join me.”

Even snorted a laugh. “I’m sure they’ll be happy with a text.”

“No, you’ll call them. And you’ll call my dad and I’ll have a shower. And I  _ might  _ wait for you… if you’re lucky.”

“I'm already the luckiest person alive. I have you.”

Isak’s skin was already warm but Even felt a new heat as he blushed. “Shut up and take me upstairs.”

⚣

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided the final three chapters are going to focus separately on each couple and I wanted to publish them all at the same time. So it's unlikely that I'll be able to update next week unless some form of miracle happens but I'll post as soon as I can!


	6. Elio and Oliver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “God, Elio—” But his words were cut off by the sharp, intrusive noise that was his phone ringing. “Jesus,” he muttered, fully intending to ignore the call as he kissed along Elio’s throat.
> 
> “Answer it.” The reply was breathy but delivered in that tone he used that brooks no argument.
> 
> “It can wait,” he huffed. “It’s late.”
> 
> A palm cupped his cheek, urging Oliver to meet his gaze. Rising his eyebrows, he replied with just one word. “Exactly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry... what has it been? Months? I am the worst... but here they are <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy the (for now) end!
> 
> Love, Becs

### 23.39

Oliver watched with a grin as Elio slowly and carefully closed their bedroom door, so no one would hear, then he stood deathly still for a minute before creeping back to the bed on tiptoes.

“I don't think they're gonna hear you eavesdropping.”

Elio looked at him, scandalized at the accusation. “I wasn't eavesdropping. I was making sure everything was ok,” he said, crawling over the bed.

In the short time since this had become their suite, they’d come quite far making it their own. There was a new bureau against one wall, large enough to house both their work if they chose to study here rather than downstairs. Oliver had put up shelves and brought up some of their favorite books; one of his new favorite past times was either one of them reading to the other whilst they sprawled in the large bed. The final touch had been refreshing the artwork that had lined the walls for decades, the style had been much too formal. Now it was pre-raphaelites and minimalist anatomical studies.

“So?” he asked as Elio slumped into the space next to him.

“So.” He grinned up at Oliver, propped up as he was against the headboard and idly thumbing through a well loved tome; an overview of Dante’s expressions on love through his many works.

He dropped the book into his lap, rolling his eyes as Elio laughed. “So, is everything ok?”

“I'll only tell you when you admit you're as nosy as I am.”

“Well then I would be lying.” Elio just raised his eyebrows and waited. “Ok,” he sighed, “I'm just as nosy, but only when it comes to _them—_ because I'm invested. _We're_ invested. I want to see a happily ever after, first time around.”

Elio pursed his lips. “I'll take that as an acceptable answer.” He looked over at the door. “I think he's on the phone to his mum.” Oliver couldn't help but laugh at the pout his soulmate wore, before an accusatory glare was aimed at him. “ _What_?” The word was as sharp as his gaze.

“You're not sulking because he didn't call home when you suggested it?”

“Well, I _did_ tell him to, and he shrugged it off. But Isak tells him and he picks up the phone instantly—like it was a totally new suggestion.”

Oliver couldn't help his grin, as much as he was being scowled at. “That might be something to do with what Isak can give him that you can't. You know… kisses… cuddles.”

Elio snorted. “Kisses and cuddles? You know they will probably be f-”

Oliver shushed him by placing a finger across his lips. “They are the same age as my kids and I really don't want to think about anything more graphic than harmless kisses and cuddles.”

“I was younger than Isak back then.” Elio was revelling at the obvious discomfort Oliver was experiencing with that notion.

“Yes and now you are not. So.” The reply was curt.

“So?”

“You keep it up with your smart mouth and I'll have to find another use for it,” Oliver warned, placing the book on the side table before slipping down the sheets to lay next to Elio.

“You can't just threaten me with a good time like that and not back it up,” he smirked before adding what Oliver knew was coming, “Daddy-o.”

The laughter was music to his ears as Oliver moved towards Elio, who—of course—didn’t shrink back from the advance. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Apparently not,” he murmured in reply as the distance closed between their mouths and Oliver’s body pressed down on him.

“Good.” It was the last word in the conversation before their lips met, it wasn’t often that Oliver got the last word.

As was usual, the spark between them was always just one kiss from heated flames. Elio shifted beneath his weight, accommodating his body as hands traced his spine, underneath the light t-shirt he wore.

And Oliver found his own hands greedy, which was also normal when Elio was within reach. His fingers threaded through dark curls before they made their way over soft skin and firm muscle, with the aim to tease every inch of Elio before he granted relief.

The taste of his mouth—equally as hungry for their deep and furious kisses—was always sweet, leaving the promise of light and easy days ahead flooding Oliver’s mind. There was nothing he couldn’t do with Elio by his side.

His wandering thoughts were brought to an abrupt end as hips were tilted beneath him, and Elio released his lips to take an expectant gasp as their bodies pulled flush where the intense sensation was most acute. A heavy breath was released into Oliver’s neck and he groaned in reply.

“God, Elio—” But his words were cut off by the sharp, intrusive noise that was his phone ringing. “Jesus,” he muttered, fully intending to ignore the call as he kissed along Elio’s throat.

“Answer it.” The reply was breathy but delivered in that tone he used that brooks no argument.

“It can wait,” he huffed. “It’s late.”

A palm cupped his cheek, urging Oliver to meet his gaze. Rising his eyebrows, he replied with just one word. “Exactly.”

It only took a second for the meaning to dawn on Oliver. Scrambling across the sheets, he grabbed his shorts that were hung over a chair and rifled through the pocket until he’d retrieved the phone. Discarding the garment onto the floor, he looked at the screen.

“It’s Vinnie,” he said, panic suddenly flooding through him. “What do I do?”

Elio laughed softly. “He’s your son. That’s not changed, just talk to him. You’ll be fine—I’m right here.” And a hand ran up his back reassuringly, allowing Oliver to let out the breath he was holding.

“OK,” he replied as he pressed the green button to answer. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Pressing the phone to his ear, he cleared his throat. _“Vinnie.”_ And he could do nothing about the excitement in his voice, nor the relief that swept over him when he heard his son snort a short laugh.

_“Hi Dad. You OK? You sound out of breath.”_

Oliver looked guiltily at Elio, who shrugged and wore a grin that said he was glad it wasn’t him on the phone right now. “I’m fine, I just left my phone upstairs and I wanted to catch it before you rang off.” He shoved Elio as he pushed his head into the pillow, trying to smother his laughter.

_“Isn’t it late there?”_

His eyes flitted to the clock on the mantelpiece. “Yeah, I guess. It’s almost midnight.”

_“Sorry—I didn’t realise it was so late.”_

“It’s fine, it’s good to hear your voice.”

_“What are you doing up anyway?”_

“It’s not all that late… c’mon son, I’m not retired yet. We were having a dinner party.” Vinny laughed down the phone again and Oliver couldn’t help but grin. It seemed to be going OK.

_“Not retired yet. Close though.”_ There was a pause as he cleared his throat. _“A dinner party? With… Elio?”_

His heart thudded in his chest as the topic was broached for the first time. “Yes: us and the neighbours and some guests. It was fun, you would have enjoyed it.”

There was a silence that stretched out longer in Oliver’s mind than it probably did in reality. _“Sounds nice.”_ And another pause. He could imagine Vinnie trying to figure out what ground was safe for them both to traverse.

“It’s OK, Vinnie. We don’t have to—”

_“No, it’s fine. I just don’t know what to say.”_

“Me neither.” And it was true, there was no handbook for this conversation. “I’m just glad you called, I’m so happy to hear your voice.”

_“Sorry I didn’t call sooner, Dad. I just—, it felt like a big deal and now that I’m talking to you it doesn’t. Does that make sense?”_

“It does.” That sounded a lot like what Nigel had said would happen. “You don’t have to be sorry, there’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s a change—a big one.”

_“I don’t care, I just wanted you to know that. If you’re happy, that’s good.”_

Oliver was at a loss for words at his son’s understanding, it wasn’t until that point that he realised that he’d been preparing for the worst. “That means a lot, son.” His throat seized up, he wanted to say more but it was proving impossible to voice anything.

_“Don’t get all emotional, dad,”_ he snickered, but Oliver could hear tension in his son’s voice too. _“You guys have guests?”_

Oliver almost thanked him for keeping the conversation going, if there were going to be tears he’d prefer to do that face to face. “Yeah, we let out the spare rooms. We had our first two guests: two boys from Norway. About the same age as you and your brother.”

_“That’s cool. So there’s room for us, when we visit?”_

Oliver found himself at a loss for words again. This was more than he could have hoped for. He looked back to find Elio nodding enthusiastically. “Of course, whenever you want. You're always welcome and I wanted to come visit you soon.”

_“That's cool. Mom says it's a nice place.”_

“You spoke to mom about it?”

_“Sure,”_ he scoffed at his dad's surprise. “ _I hear you knew each other when you were my age...I bet that's a story.”_ And the insinuation was clear as day.

Oliver was stuck between affront and surprise at his son's gall. And it didn't help that Elio was laughing behind him  “A _private_ story.”

_“Well, unless I get you drunk when you visit. You like to go on about the good ol’ days—”_

“Vinnie.” The warning was just the one word, but he didn't think this was the last he’d hear about this. “Is your brother OK?” And he meant more than just OK, Oliver hoped he'd adjusted as well as Vinnie had.

_“Yeah, he's good. He has a girlfriend so he's out with her tonight—he's always out. I'll get him to call tomorrow… but he's OK—you know—with you and… everything.”_ He trailed off and Oliver was glad for it, he could hear more jokes lined up.

Oliver nodded, how was everything suddenly ironed smooth? Everyone was OK with this? “That would be great. A girlfriend?”

_“Yeah, I know. I'm not sure how he managed it either.”_

“Hey, be nice to your brother. Does mom know?”

_“She knows everything… but he thinks he's being sneaky.”_ Vinnie snorted a laugh. _“Anyway, I wanna go to this gig tonight, so I'd better go.”_

“OK, son. It was good to talk to you.”

_“It was, I'm glad I called. And we'll talk soon about visiting—maybe next month?”_

“Anytime, anytime,” he reassured, ecstatic that they would be bringing the most important elements together. It might be awkward at times but he didn't care. “You have a good night, stay safe.”

_“You too. Love you Dad.”_

“Love you, too.”

Oliver held the phone to his ear long after Vinnie had hung up, Elio had to retrieve it for him and set it on bedside table.

“You OK?” he asked tentatively.

“ _Me OK._ ” he whispered to himself. A long sigh was released from his lungs as his hands flopped to the mattress. “It's just that simple?”

Elio hummed confirmation as he urged Oliver back onto the bed until he was sat up against the headboard.

“I've been torturing myself—and you—over this for half our lives and everyone is just… OK with it?”

“Don't question a good thing.” Elio hushed him.

“But—”

“I swear to God if you start feeling guilty about this _good_ thing, I'll tie you up and leave you here for a week.” It was stated with fond exasperation.

Oliver was going to argue that he should feel some guilt—that it was due—but of course Elio knew he'd do that. In a flash, he found himself thoroughly straddled.

Without hesitation, Oliver reached out to hold onto Elio's waist. His gaze caught hostage by piercing green eyes.

“Life is now. OK? We have what we have now, don't worry about yesterday or tomorrow.”

Oliver nodded. It was the only thing he could do, he had to let go of what he couldn't change.

“OK.”

Elio smirked down at him from his position of vantage. “You know what you should worry about?”

“What's that?” he replied, fading to the world that exists outside of Elio.

“You gave up your position of dominance. Now it's my turn.”

And his laugh was cut short as Elio's mouth met his, the passion that had built up had only been put on pause. Oliver moved his hands under Elio's t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head before quick fingers were pulling at his fly.

It occurred to him, whilst their clothes were shed and their skin finally met, that he hadn't got the last word and he probably never would—he was ok with that.

And so he thought to himself instead: _Life with you, Elio; it's beautiful._

 

 

 

⚣

 


	7. Hannibal and Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The soft sound of someone clearing their throat may as well have been a gunshot by the way it caused both men to freeze in their exploration. Despite breaking away from their kiss and movements, they shared a grin before turning to address the interloper.
> 
> If it hadn't been for the familiar scent, Hannibal might have missed what he was looking for. But there—hovering in the dark between two tree trunks—was a beautiful pale face, illuminated by the moon. The rest of Chiyoh blended seamlessly into the verdure. Hannibal decided, and not for the first time, that she must possess supernatural qualities—a goddess in her own right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …. MOOAARR....

### 23.51

“Will?” he whispered, and he was only doing so because Will had started speaking in hushed tones as he'd led them back to their neighbour’s villa—back to the garden to be precise. They'd been halfway back to their own abode before this sudden change of plan.

“ _Will?”_ he hissed again. It was no good, Hannibal was being ignored as he hurried to close the ten paces that gave the other man the lead. Will had pulled his shirt off, throwing it to the ground, and—if Hannibal didn't know any better—he would have said that the low, musical sound coming from Will’s general direction was giggling.

There was nothing else Hannibal could do but follow to make sure no damage was caused. They’d all drunk their fair share of wine—some shares had been vastly larger than others.

It was only when Will's feet stopped short of the pool that it became clear what was going on, added to the grin that was aimed back at Hannibal left no doubts in his mind.

“You can't do that Will, they're our neighbours. It's _rude_.”

“It's no different from regular swimming. What’s a layer of material between friends?” Will shrugged. “Besides, I bet _they've_ done it.”

“It's _their_ pool,” Hannibal impressed but it was having no effect: sandals had been kicked off and Will was quickly unfastening his trousers.

“They are _very_ liberal. I'm sure they'd join if you wanted to be polite and ask, Hannibal.” He arched an eyebrow as he delivered the words, and Hannibal was left uncharacteristically grappling for words. Instead he simply watched as Will hooked his thumbs around the waistband of his trousers and yanked them down along with his underwear; standing as bare and beautiful as a sculpture; his skin looked like carved marble in the moonlight.

“This is reckless,” Hannibal finally pointed out, but his heart wasn't in it. This is what he'd been hoping Will would find: a little levity—to be carefree. “We could get caught.”

“So you're joining me then?” The sure reply came as Will was lowering himself onto the side of the pool, putting his feet into the water and shivering as he adjusted to the cool. Who was Hannibal to say no? He'd never been one to deny himself his desires, and Will truly was the most unique and important desire he held within his heart.

“If only to keep you out of trouble.” Hannibal was unbuttoning the ghastly blouse Will had made him wear as he muttered.

“ _Sure_.” The word was delivered with a smirk and a copious amount of disbelief before a gasp cut through Will's snark as he slipped into the water. “It's damn cold.”

“We've been in colder, I'm positive of that,” Hannibal mused, pushing down his own trousers over his hips and letting them fall to the floor. Folding them, he placed them neatly atop the messy pile already amassed by the pools edge. Some things would never change and he delighted in that.

“That's true.” Will was floating on his back, eyes heaven bound and looking for once like they had not a care in the world. And perhaps that was true now. “The sky is as clear here as it gets in Wolf Trap,” he murmured. “The constellations are just a little different—for the time of year.”

Hannibal was bare now and perched on the edge of the pool. It _was_ cool—cool enough to scatter goose-bumps over his skin. “Our stars will always be the same, whatever designs they form in the heavens above us.”

“Always together now, in this life.” The reply was so soft Hannibal almost missed it.

“Indeed. Always,” he assured, just as tenderly.

Will turned his head to consider him for a moment before speaking. “I like the stars here.”

“I do too.” Hannibal slipped into the water trying to disguise his own gasp with a cough. The grin he received said it hasn't been hidden well enough. But it _was_ refreshing—renewing.

Hannibal began to swim slowly from end to end as Will simply floated. Thoughts were quite obviously swirling through his mind but Hannibal wouldn't intrude upon them until Will was ready to air them.

“You know,” he began at last, breaking the silence, “I don't think I've been the easiest person to live with.”

Hannibal couldn't help the laugh he snorted in response. “You've only now reached that conclusion?” The words came to a spluttered close as a spray of water was sent in his direction in retaliation.

“You aren’t a walk in the path either, Hannibal.”

“I’m well aware of my eccentricities.” He pulled himself into a corner, arms resting on the sides of the pool as he tipped his chin up to take in the night sky, as Will had. It was perfectly peaceful, there _was_ something renewing about this place—and not just the frigid water. “It’s why I’m so appreciative that you accommodate them.”

Will snorted. “I do?”

“Well, better than anyone else on this planet could. You are unique, and we are uniquely each other’s.” Looking back across the water, he found Will staring at him before the short distance between them rapidly closed. With the proximity, the intensity in Will became clear.

“Maybe things could be simpler now. Just us, away from the world.” He paused, weighing his thoughts and how to deliver them. Hannibal smiled at the pleasure of being able to read him so well, knowing Will so intimately that he could almost hear the internal cogs of that beautiful, cunning mind turn. In most things, Hannibal could never predict him, but he was certain he knew where this conversation was headed. “Here?” he added softly, that single word was a simple question. Could they stay?

“You want to stay here?” The statement had to be clarified before it could be answered.

Will chewed his lip. “It's a fresh start. I like it. There are intellectuals… there’s fishing—even some fun.”

“ _Fun_? God forbid,” Hannibal snickered.

“I think we could be comfortable here.” Will punctuated the response with a sniff, his chin tilted up with an air of finality. It was clear he hoped the explanation would be enough.

“Comfortable?” Hannibal probed, knowing full well what was meant and was trying to avoid saying.

Will rolled his eyes. “ _Happy._ I would be happy here.”

“After everything, I can't deny you happiness.” His words seemed to grant relief as tension flowed from Will moments before he frowned.

“But you—would you be happy? This goes against your nature: staying in one place, _not_ killing… And so on.”

“You've changed my nature.” He smiled as Will's mouth opened, but no reply came. Speechlessness: it wasn't something he could easily inflict on Will.

Hannibal took advantage of the pause to study the other man: he looked beautiful, hair slicked to his face and so close that Hannibal could see his lips tremble with each breath, the moonlight danced in his eyes just like the boundless soul that Will's body possessed. No—there would be no destroying what they shared and he wouldn't test that hypothesis any longer. “If I'm with you I'm happy.”

“Then we stay. The Grahams?” Will asked tentatively.

“We stay.” And the smile that carved deep lines into Will's cheeks was all the payment he would ever need. Hannibal couldn't help himself from reaching out to place a palm tenderly against Will's jaw. There was no fear between them anymore, only an unknown amount of time for gentleness.

Hands gripped his shoulders as Will pulled himself forward, cutting through the water that remained between them before their lips met.

Soft and slowly, it felt as though Will was asking for permission to kiss him with such care. Hannibal's fingers curled around his neck, lacing through the wet hair at Will’s nape and letting him know without words that it was OK—more than OK, Hannibal urged him on. This plateau they had reached brought relief and desire to both of them.

It was all that was needed to turn the light kiss into sweet and deep passion. Their bodies pushed together, bared flesh on bared flesh, and submerged in the water of their new life—water that was as clear as their intentions.

Will's hands had released his shoulders and were making teasing paths down Hannibal's sides, fingers deftly caressing every inch they traversed. The tenderness should be shocking, to both of them, but it simply felt long overdue.

“How long do you think I can hold my breath for?” he asked, breathless against Hannibal’s lips.

“If I remember correctly, quite some time. But—as men of science—we would be doing a disservice to rely on one trial alone.” He smirked back at Will, fully aware of what he hinted at. Who was he to stop him?

Lips were on his neck within a heartbeat as Hannibal’s hands began to roam freely over the body pressed to his, their legs slotted together as Will rolled his hips against Hannibal.

The soft sound of someone clearing their throat may as well have been a gunshot by the way it caused both men to freeze in their exploration. Despite breaking away from their kiss and movements, they shared a grin before turning to address the interloper.

If it hadn't been for the familiar scent, Hannibal might have missed what he was looking for. But there—hovering in the dark between two tree trunks—was a beautiful pale face, illuminated by the moon. The rest of Chiyoh blended seamlessly into the verdure. Hannibal decided, and not for the first time, that she must possess supernatural qualities—a goddess in her own right.

“Hannibal, Will,” she addressed them softly, her quick eyes scanning the garden before she stepped forward. “You look like you're having… _fun._ ” The slight twist in her mouth was as good as a laugh for anyone else. She was completely unperturbed by the scene she’d walked in on, but—of course—by this point she’d seen far worse than the two of them skinny dipping.

“It _is_ fun,” Will replied, the grin never slipping from his face, “Maybe you should join us.”

Her eyebrows rose a fraction in surprise before she released a soft laugh. “It's tempting but I need to rest.” She frowned at the villa that lay quietly across the manicured lawn, soft light spilled out from the upper rooms. “Do you know them?”

“We had dinner together tonight actually,” Hannibal answered.

_“You’ve made friends?”_ Chiyoh didn’t attempt to hide her surprise.

Will shrugged when Hannibal glanced back at him. “I suppose we have.”

She snorted delicately—if such a thing could be done in that manner. “That’s very domestic of you both.” Hannibal’s face was scanned carefully before Chiyoh carried out the same examination on Will. “Do you plan to settle?” As always, she was straight to the point and concise in her workings.

“Yes, we do,” Hannibal said. Will held to him tighter and it was hard not to ignore their present company and embrace him right back. “Will you stay with us?”  

Pursing her lips, she considered the proposal, knowing full well it wouldn’t be asked out of politeness. They had become a family now. “I like flying free, but this will be my nest.”

It was what he’d expected; after being trapped and tethered for so long she was due her freedom. As long as she regarded this place—and them—as a nest and not a cage.  And then there was the other matter…

“How long are you staying for?” Will's voice disrupted Hannibal’s thoughts, he sounded genuinely eager for her to stay. They were growing into one another, and that notion was a pleasant one.

“Well,” Chiyoh began, eyes search the night sky, “We'll be able to pick up Winston in a few weeks.”

Hannibal didn't even need to look to know Will was grinning, anticipating his reunion with the dog—everyone was attached to the creature now, including Hannibal, and the stay at quarantine had dragged out. But he could never admit to missing those wake up licks from the mut, he'd never live it down.

“So, a while?” Will asked.

Her eyes came to rest on Hannibal for a long moment before she answered. “Maybe a little longer than a while.” She cocked her head to one side and frowned, Hannibal realised it was because he was grinning at her like a fool. “I've decided to take you up on your offer, Hannibal,” she added, like it was nothing.

“You have?” He was barely able to contain his surprise, it had only been a brief discussion and he hadn't thought it would go further than that.

She hummed her committal. “But for now, I need a _warm_ soak—and rest.” She divided her attention between them both. “Good night, don't catch a chill.” And with a smirk she melted back into the darkness.

Hannibal’s mind was already whirling with her decision being reached and how it _could_ impact their lives forever. Will's hand on his cheek, guiding him back to his gaze, stirred him from his stupor.

“What did she mean?” Will looked confounded, but more so concerned with what could impact Hannibal in this fashion.

Clearing his throat, he realised there was no other way to put it then the simple truth. “IVF. She's willing to carry our child.”

 

 

 

⚣

 


	8. Isak and Even

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I've been thinking.” The words were mumbled into Isak’s mouth. 
> 
> “That sounds dangerous,” he smirked back before letting out a yelp as his lower lip was bitten into. 
> 
> “If you're not careful, I know what buttons of yours I can tease.” Even propped himself up on an elbow, gazing down at Isak. Heat crept into his cheeks at the softness and passion caught in his big, blue eyes. Despite how tempting the teasing sounded, and how much he'd missed their sparring until one had outdone and overpowered the other, he wanted to know what was on Even’s mind. 
> 
> “I'm listening,” he said quietly, pushing back a wayward lock of blond hair that had fallen on to Even’s forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C'est fin! Thank you for your patience, I hope you enjoyed the ride <3
> 
> …. and I fully intend to write the wedding.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments along the way, it means so much. Thank you to my guardian angel, Lady Darkness <3 ILY

###  00:21

Isak let the water pelt against his back, as the suds washed down his skin and swirled down the plug hole. Relief was not the word to explain how he felt now; he was back with Even and everything was finally ironed out and understood. 

A snort ripped from him as he thought about how easily this all could have been avoided if they’d just talked when they'd needed to—hadn't they learned that lesson yet? 

One of the men had muttered something when he'd been under the balcony, stuttering out his proposal:  _ Is it better to speak or to die?  _ It was a notion—although perhaps melodramatic—that Isak wouldn't leave behind.

But now they were here, it was almost an extension of their vacation. It had only been three days apart but it felt like a month, and Isak fully intended to erase those painfully long and solitary hours with at least an extra week here. Grinning to himself, Isak imagined all the things they might get up to in this idyllic seclusion. 

At the villa they had the pool, the orchards and the wide open, peaceful spaces. During the train ride, Isak had done some research on the area; there was a city not far away—Bergamo—near the foothills of the alps. A City built around a hill peak with a medieval town at its heart, and narrow, winding alleys that he could imagine would make a romantic evening stroll. He was sure it would inspire Even.

But the grin turned to a frown as he shut the water off; where  _ was  _ Even? He'd taken as long as possible to shower without running the risk of turning into a prune. 

Grabbing a towel, he hopped out of the shower and delicately picked his way across tiles that had a detailed but worn pattern around the edges. Everything had an aged feel to it, but it was a charming rustic quality that Isak expected when he imagined sleepy italian towns. Everything well loved and used well.

When he pulled open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the bedroom, Isak was confronted by a bewildered looking Even frozen to the spot between the open balcony doors and the en suite entrance. 

“Even? Is everything OK? Did you speak to your mum?” The words flooded from Isak, too much apprehension remained within him not to imagine the worst case scenario. 

But Even just nodded slowly. “They're fine,” he replied absentmindedly, “Your dad too. I got a loving earful.” 

Isak snickered at that, it was the least he deserved, but the laugh cut off as a thought came to him. “Did you tell them?” Maybe that was why Even was so off balance. Isak wasn't sure whether he wanted them to know  _ now  _ or keep it a secret a little while longer. 

“No, no,” he said, his mind was still elsewhere, “I figured we'd tell them when we get back?” 

“Sure.” Isak grinned. “So—urm—what's up with you? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Even snorted. “I saw  _ something  _ I didn't want to see, but it wasn't a ghost.” 

Frowning, Isak waited for him to go on but he just continued to look between the bedroom door and the balcony. “ _ What was it?” _ Isak urged with a pinch of impatience as he plopped himself down on the bed and began drying his hair with the towel draped around his shoulders.

“Well,” Even began, licking his lips, “I was on the phone awhile—you know how my mum goes on; she was worried about the water PH, or some shit—” 

“OK, and?” 

“Then I was gonna join you, but I could hear,” he nodded towards the entrance to their suite, “  _ them.”  _

Isak blinked before it dawned on him what Even meant and he grunted a laugh. “You heard them  _ fucking?” _

“Don't say it like that,” Even cut in with a pained expression, “that's like thinking about your parents doing it.” He shuddered and Isak couldn't help but laugh. 

“So what? Why didn't you come in? We could have had a competition.” He waggled his eyebrows at Even, feeling warmth in the playful scowl returned. He'd missed every single one of Even’s various expressions. 

“No. That wouldn't have been comfortable for anyone,” Even reprimanded, “beside, it killed my boner.” 

“I'm sure I could help you with that,” Isak offered with a smirk, it made Even pause in his tracks, his gaze getting lost somewhere on Isak's skin, before he blinked back to what he had been saying. 

Clearing his throat, Even gestured at the balcony. “So, then I thought I'd get some air and  _ wait it out.”  _ He put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Then _ they _ were in the pool— _ naked _ .” 

Isak’s eyebrows drew together. “I thought they were in their room?” 

“No, not  _ them _ ,” Even huffed disbelievingly, “Nigel and Adam.” 

“ _ What _ ?” 

“Exactly.” Even concluded, looking a combination of perturbed and disapproving. 

It seemed like everyone was making the most of the sensual and intimate environment—that and the wine.

“Good for them, I guess,” he mused. “You think they asked permission?” Isak lowered his voice, as if anyone would be able to hear them.

Even shrugged. “God knows. Probably not? I mean, who asks to do that?”

Isak edged back on the bed, chucking the damp towel on to the mismatched chair by the open balcony doors. “Maybe we could take a turn—tomorrow night… reenact our first kiss? But—like—the X-rated version.” 

The suggestion seemed to break through the remaining disturbance lingering in Even’s mind, he grinned at Isak before two long legged strides brought him to the bed and he deposited himself next to Isak. 

“Sounds perfect,” he replied, darting forward to steal a light kiss. “You still want me to keep my clothes on?” 

“You can't let me get into trouble on my own, can you? Together, remember?” It was Isak’s turn to bring their mouths together, this time slowly and deliberately. 

It had been Isak’s intention to capture Even’s full attention, but it was he that was now pressed to the mattress, chasing kisses as if they were as vital as air. In actual fact, they were critical to his survival, he surmised. His fingers laced through the hair at Even’s nape trying to persuade him not to leave his mouth, but they were equally matched on the stubborn scale. Even wasn’t done talking.

“I've been thinking.” The words were mumbled into Isak’s mouth. 

“That sounds dangerous,” he smirked back before letting out a yelp as his lower lip was bitten into. 

“If you're not careful, I know what buttons of yours I can tease.” Even propped himself up on an elbow, gazing down at Isak. Heat crept into his cheeks at the softness and passion caught in his big, blue eyes. Despite how tempting the teasing sounded, and how much he'd missed their sparring until one had outdone and overpowered the other, he wanted to know what was on Even’s mind. 

“I'm listening,” he said quietly, pushing back a wayward lock of blond hair that had fallen on to Even’s forehead. 

“I think I want to do something with music and film; a course or something.” He held his breath, apprehension clear on his face as he anticipated Isak's reaction. 

Frowning up at Even, he wondered why there would be so much obvious anxiety at presenting his aspirations. Of course Isak would be supportive, more than that— _ thrilled  _ at Even reclaiming his passion. “I think that's an amazing idea, baby.”

“You do? But what about money and—you know—I don't know how we'll survive—and now we're getting married…” Isak could see the exact moment Even lost his point within the realisation that they were engaged. The same feeling kept overwhelming Isak, too. His cheeks ached with the smile that mirrored the one that Even wore. 

“We'll work it out.” 

“But—” he started to argue, but Isak cut him off with a gentle shake of his head. 

“ _ We'll work it out _ . Besides, isn't this the point in our lives we're supposed to be broke?” Even nodded slowly, but before he could construct any resistance Isak cut in again. “We have options, even if we have to move in with your mum.” 

“ _ My _ mum? What about yours?” 

Isak rolled his eyes. “Your mum is cooler. Besides, that's not the point; like I said, we'll figure it out. OK?” 

Even chewed his lip before nodding. “OK.” Isak could feel the excitement spreading through the body pressed to his, it was contagious. “We'll look at courses tomorrow.”

“Deal.” And their lips almost rejoined when Even decided to postpone addressing both of their needs a second time. “Oh, one more thing.” 

Isak huffed impatiently. “ _ What _ ?” 

“I thought here would be nice, for the wedding or honeymoon maybe.” 

“You wanna talk about that now?”

Even was smirking now. “I’m excited.”

It was a nice idea, here in the sun with the fruit groves and the wine—which would undoubtedly be cheaper than back home. But then there would be the small matter of getting guests here. “You know that would be a  _ very  _ long engagement? We’d need quite a bit of money to invest in that.” He was stroking fingers down Even’s cheek as he spoke, not trying to put them off the idea but being the voice of reason.

Turning his face, Even kissed Isak’s fingertips tenderly before he replied. “It's not the length of the journey, but who you're travelling with that counts.” But Isak was too distracted by attentive lips to poke fun at the romantic sentiment. Even quirked an eyebrow when he realised he didn't have Isak’s full attention, knowing where his mind had wandered too. 

“True. It won't be too hard, I guess.” The reply was muttered absentmindedly. Isak frowned when a snicker came in reply to his statement. “What now?” He was pulling Even towards his mouth, desperate in his need to feel the man he loved all over his body—reclaiming every inch after their absence from one another had caused a drought in its short spell. 

“Unlike me.”

“Huh?” 

“You said it won't be too hard—unlike me.” 

Isak hummed his approval and anticipation. “I told you I could help with that,” he whispered against Even’s lips.

Their mouths finally found each other and Isak was sure, as Even moved over him—proving that their feelings were always mirrored—there would be no more coherent conversation. But he still intended to make their love audibly apparent to anyone within earshot.

It only seemed a heartbeat before the towel around his waist had been unravelled and somehow Even’s naked skin was pressed to his, fingers writing their greetings in crude and elaborate glyphs over any skin they could find. They were home.

 

⚣

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dude... kudos and comments are always appreciated. Let me know what I'm doing right or wrong, I'm all ears <3


End file.
